There's still a life in Arda
by archeress of silverbow
Summary: What would things be like if Elrond didn't leave Middle Earth with Galadriel and the others?
1. Elrond's choice

**This is my first LOTR fanfic. **

**I read the books before buying the films and after watching them this idea popped into my head. It will be a multi-chapter story but not entirely sure where it is going to end up as of yet. A mixture of movie world and book world.  
**

**Massive thank you to the website _Merin Essi ar Quniteli_ and its founder _dreamingfifi _who has put up with my (probably bizarre looking) questions and translation requests. All elvish has either been gained from the phrase books on the site or those requests. _Le hannon o guren._**

* * *

The three Shire hobbits had left and everyone else was on the ship, somehow he'd ended up last in line. Yet the Elf-lord hesitated.

Suddenly a tingling came over his body, the present faded away into foresight;

_Him standing in the great hall of Minas Anor, or as they now called it; Minas Tirith, with Arwen and Aragorn watching from their thrones on the dais. And then, tottering, came the boy Arwen had seen when she turned back from the Grey Havens. He was younger than in that vision, perhaps three, but clearly the same person. The child opened his mouth... _

Cirdan touched his arm, jolting him out to the present "We must leave now" the shipwright's eyes were gentle "Tides are favourable and when they change the journey will only grow longer"

The half-elf shook his head and gestured, suddenly certain about what he must do "Their journey, but not mine... not yet" He looked up at the ship, scanning the deck for a trustworthy face... there. "Haldir" he called the name, the elf turned and looked down "I beg one more favour of you; take this ring into your keeping and see that my wife Celebrían is given it" in one swift move he freed the final one of the Elven Three from his finger and tossed it up onto the deck.

"But you're coming with us?" Galadriel's voice was clear through the cloaking mist.

"Nay, lady" he turned and strode back to his horse, leaping on. "For now at least I go to Minas Anor, there is still a life for me to make there" he wheeled the mare in a full circle and let her dance under him. He raised his voice as he had when a leader in the war "_Navaer, Galu,_ _No bain i sŷl lîn_"

Even as the words fell from his lips the ship was vanishing out of sight. With a final raise of his hand Elrond turned his horse onto the road he had ridden just this morning. Bending low he spoke to the horse "Now Suldal shall we show those mearas a thing or two about fast riding?" He sat up and let her long striding canter eat up the road.

* * *

The rain was doing its best to drown travellers when Elrond finally pulled the mare up in the shelter of trees, thanks to good roads he'd already covered many miles, but a wish to stay away from anywhere connected to the fellowship had forced him to forsake the chance of spending a night in an inn. Instead of riding over the Baranduin Bridge and on to Bree he'd taken the road to Sarn Ford.

Loosening the straps of Suldal's tack he pulled out a bundle from his pocket and unwrapped it.

_What on earth possessed me to pack a bag of lembas for the journey to __Valinor__ I do not know, but I am grateful_. The thought ran through his head and as he laughed aloud at his own confusion, his mare raised her head, shook it once and began to graze again.

"Oh Suldal, _mellon nin_, I wish that I had the horse sense you posses"

Finishing the wafer he stretched out on his cloak, rolled the edges around him and dropped into the light sleep so common of Elves who had fought in armies at some point of their long lives.

It was only when he woke that Elrond realised quite how far the mare had brought him. On an ordinary horse it would have taken perhaps a week to get here, yet they'd left Grey Havens only 3 days ago.

_Still a long way to ride yet before all is said and gone_ stated a more sensible section of his mind, while the rest startled at the achievement. He retightened the tack and vaulted on again, Suldal setting off on the road without a word.

As they traversed the empty land between the ford and abandoned city of Tharbad Elrond had time to muse on his decisions. The more he thought about it the more foolish he felt, thrice ways foolish. Once; for abandoning Celebrían on the basis of a flash of foresight, which might not actually come true, Secondly; attempting to prevent Arwen from following her heart once she'd seen the child in his first vision, and thirdly: for being a hypocrite and doing exactly what she'd done, turning back from the Grey Havens into Arda. Yet somehow he knew that what he'd chosen to do was the right thing, and such certainty had not come for many decades.

* * *

Before he knew it the dark forbidding shadows of Tharbad were looming over him. The Elf-lord felt a tiny shiver run down his spine but ignored it_. Pe-channas! If you had paid attention you would have seen the ruins on the horizon hours ago, even a man or hobbit would have spotted them_

For some reason insulting himself made Elrond feel better, he sat up to his full height, lifting the hand that held Suldal's reins slightly clear of the pommel while letting the other idly rest on his sword hilt. Tharbad had too many nasty stories told about it for even the bravest of thieves to stand living there. But it would do no harm just to let any watching eyes know they were dealing with a warrior.

Looking around at the ruins he found it hard to realise that he had known, albeit distantly, this city at its height. Now it was a ruin, and no living man had anything but the faintest of fireside tales to remember it by. How different the lives of the Edain and Eldar truly were...

Suldal snorted, deliberately stumbling, jerking her rider so he lurched sharply sideways. With muttered curses unfit for his rank Elrond pulled himself straight and kicked her into canter. That wretched mare was far too smart, though it was probably his fault for breeding his previous mount with a meara stallion and keeping the foal for a replacement. It seemed a good idea at the time. Now? He didn't quite know what to think. Suldal was a good horse in her way and those wits would have come in useful with a war horse when he was younger... He quickly woke up to avoid being shaken off her back once more.

_No_, stated the sensible part of his brain _It was __**not**__ a good idea

* * *

_

**Translations**

**_Navaer _= Farewell**

**_Galu_ = Good luck**

**_No bain i sŷl lîn_ = May your winds be fair**

**_mellon nin= _My Friend**

**_Pe-channas= _Idiot**

**Reviews would be lovely_,_ I need to know if this looks to be a good idea**_  
_


	2. Of Dunland, Elven Horses and Ents

**Thank you so much to _frodo16424_, _MRS. GLORFINDEL_, anonomous _LadyDorothy_ and finally _GreyLynx_. I have never had so many reviews for a first chapter, or so soon after it was posted up. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.**

* * *

For the second night in a row they camped in woodland, this time on the far side of Tharbad. Elrond knew only too well the stories of the wild men that inhabited the barren land between here and Isengaurd. They were yet another class of Men, the open ground cousins of the Drúedain but much more vicious toward any intruders. He hoped he would stay well out of their path but knew he was trusting everything to a large amount of luck. If the Valar were kind he would manage, if not... then there would be blood drawn without a doubt. In security he left Sudal loose, she wouldn't wander off but would be better able to protect herself.

He was woken by a screeching challenge from the trees, leaping up he drew the sword and held it ready.

* * *

Behind the Elf lord a shadow detached itself and flung itself toward the unprotected back.

* * *

Elrond whirled on the spot as Suldal's enraged screech split the air. He barely had time to register seeing a bearded man with his club raised before the man was flung sideways, white horse teeth grabbing the sacking clothes and tearing them. Now ready and fully alert, Elrond met the next attacker with the pommel of his sword, knocking the man out cold. With a trumpet worthy of her sire he saw Suldal rear up, lashing out with her front hooves and knocking two more of the wild men senseless with well aimed blows. _"__Mae carnen__, __rocheth nîn_, _maetho__ hain!__"_ he shouted encouragement as the last of their assailants fled from the enraged mare, then stepped forward to sooth her "_Sedho, rochethig, sedho_".

_Not a scratch on her_ he mentally observed _Even Periwinkle couldn't have managed that._

Periwinkle; his old mare, and Suldal's mother. She was one of the Elven horses and as brave as any of the first of those that came from Valinor. In fact now he thought of it; she _had_ been one of the purest of the bloodline left, he'd always bred his mounts carefully, the gifts of these horses were far too precious to be squandered by diluting their purity.

Swinging the blanket roll up onto his back Elrond led the mare away from the trees, he needed to see the stars and once more race the wind with them gazing on. A wild idea filled his head; too mad for an efling, let alone grown up responsible elf, to consider trying. But he was going to do it anyway.

"_Daro_" he looped the reins twice round Suldal's neck until they stayed firm "_Daro_". He broke into a run, opening a distance between them. Then he whistled, a single clear note that he'd used for millennia with his horses. Hooves drummed on the road as the mare galloped to catch him up, the second she was alongside he grasped a lock of her mane and vaulted onto her back. Sitting quiet he let her race across the open ground, chestnut mane brushing his face. Perhaps by morrow-dusk they would be away from this land and by Isenguard, he'd wasted time halting so soon after Tharbad.

* * *

When the sun came up Suldal seemed to only run faster, like a reptile gaining energy. It was that same turn of foot as a foal which had given her her name. Sure enough, as if the thought had been foresight itself, they made a rough camp at the edge of the Ent forest around Isengaurd. Elrond built no fire for fear of angering these trees to whom the White Alliance owed so much, so instead he sat with his back against Suldal's side, he head bending round to lie on his lap, and thought about the horses he'd known. All bar Suldal were of pure Elven descent, yet some stood out clearer in his memory: Belan; a gift from Gil-galad when he became vice-regent, Sirdal; the first foal born at Rivendell, Thinelroch; he'd shared Arwen's birthday, and dear Periwinkle; Aragorn had named her that when she was already three years old though he had no clue why. He'd been a foot solider and yet surrounded himself and his family with horses.

"Fret not Elven friend" the voice spoke in Westron but with an accent that reminded Elrond of the woods near Rivendell, he twisted his head and looked up into the eyes of an Onod.

"_Le suilon_ Onod"

The tree looked at him _"_You wonder at the path your life has taken, trying to decide if you made the right choice to stay behind" Elrond sat quiet, speechless for the first time in he-didn't-know-when "Trust in yourself Star-Dome, trust as you used to when under the Radiant Star" the tree smiled at his bemused face and then went to sleep. Elrond decided there was no other sensible course of action than to do the same.

"Wake me at daybreak Suldal" Unfortunately the mare was already asleep.

* * *

Come dawn it was not Suldal that woke him, instead it was the gentle brush of a leaf landing on his cheek. He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes to see the same Onod gazing down at him

"You asked to be woken..."

"_Hannon le_" he stood up, half a glimmer of which tree this might be "_Le Bregalad__?"_

"Yes" replied the Onod "Yet you wonder how I knew about the War of the Last Alliance... oh elf lord, I may be young compared to Fangorn but I was a strong sapling then.**"**

Elrond lowered his gaze for a second "Forgive my minor ignorance"

The Onod bowed to him then looked to Suldal, rusting his leaves in a way that might have been speech, so different and distinct were the sounds that came. The mare responded with noises of her own, snorts and nickering. They conversed like that for a while, Elrond watching quietly until Bregalad turned back to him "Your horse is something most unusual, she has intelligence that betters even the Elven horses which she resembles..." the voice dropped into a pondering mumble

"Her Sire was a meara"

Bregalad nodded "Then that explains it..." he straightened "Ride your path well through all land Elrond Halfelven, the sun rolls high"

Elrond bowed "_Ú-firo i laiss e-guil gîn Bregalad_" Suldal came forward, also bowing in her own fashion before standing still to be mounted.

"_Noro lim rocheth__" _Bregalad called, causing the mare to spring away at full speed.

* * *

Elrond twisted to look behind him, even with his sharp eyesight he could barely see the wood anymore.

"Ah Suldal, swift are the feet of your kind when they come within range of their kin, into the Rohirrim's home do we ride." The mare's ears flicked back in interest and Elrond sang a snatch of the song Éomer had written about one meara;

"_In the distance they saw him,  
White sun caught his mane.  
Long they called him,  
But he would not come.  
for he was Shadowfax,  
Lord of all Horses.  
And he answered only to one."_

Elrond smiled as the mare snorted in appreciation and picked up her pace again. Perhaps he'd better reconsider how long the journey would take.

* * *

**Translations _(I'm doing it in sentences this time)_**

**_Mae carnen rocheth nîn_, _maetho__ hain =_ Well done, my mare, attack them**

**_Sedho, rochethig, sedho = _peace, dear mare, peace**

**_Daro = _Halt**

**_Le suilon _**_**Onod**_** = I greet you Ent  
**

**_Hannon le = _Thank you**

**_Le Bregalad__?_= Are you Quickbeam?**

**_Ú-firo i laiss e-guil lîn= _May the leaves of your life never die**

**_Noro lim rocheth= _Run fast mare**

** In the books _Bregalad _or_ Quickbeam _was an Ent that Merry and Pippin befriended during the time of the Entmoot. ****_Star-Dome_ is one of the translations of Elrond and the mention of ****_Radiant Star_ refers to Gil-Galad (it is the translation of his name).**

**Sorry for rambling, Reviews please **


	3. In the land of the Rohirrim

**Thank you to _Oleanne_,_ Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _Faerthurin_ for reviewing last chapter. I realised after posting that I hadn't helped with all those horse names I used, they are all in Sindarin Names; Horse names on _Merin Essi ar Quintelli_. Enjoy this next chapter.**

* * *

They travelled into the night to make up for lost time, finally camping in a dell a few miles from Edoras. As he gave Suldal the first big groom she'd had since Grey Havens Elrond had time to think. At this pace they might make Minas Anor in three days, perhaps four if he went at a lighter pace from now on. That in itself was a good idea, for two reasons; he didn't carry an urgent message so there was no reason to thunder into Minas Anor as Gandalf had, and if he met any of the Rohirrim he didn't want to be explaining why his horse was being ridden so fast. There were rumours that the Rohirrim had no qualms at confiscating an ill-used horse on grounds of the rider inflicting cruelty.

"And I'd rather not find out if they're true, if I have a choice Suldal. You're a special horse and we've seen a lot together" he gave her a pat on the neck.

* * *

"Get up" the hard voice snapped into his sharp ears. "I said up!" a boot nudged his ribs "UP!" the man bellowed. Elrond finally rolled over to see the distinctive attire of a Rider looming over him and the hooves of enough horses to indicate that he'd been found by an _Èored_. In a single fluid movement he jumped to his feet, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"What business do you have with me?" He raised his head, making no attempt to hide the shape of his ears.

The Rider had the decency to look slightly more respectful "We believe that the mare you ride is stolen property, all her traits indicate she is a horse of Rohan."

Elrond flicked Suldal half a glance, checking her appearance against the horses ringing him. He spoke genially "Tell me, how many of the horses of Rohan are chestnuts? I believed your army preferred the greys"

"There are many actually" snapped the Rider "Greys are special horses for chosen men. And your flippant tone gives me all the more reason to believe that this mare has been stolen."

"You are wrong" Elrond snapped "Though her sire was one of the mearas... her dam was a pure-blood Elven horse, those distant relatives of your own mounts that were tamed and bred long before the horses and men now inhabiting this land came south to it. And _I_ am no simple rider who knows nothing; I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell and the eldest of the Peredhil" he watched the effect on his challenger, spreading his hands out with palms upward "If you do not believe me then march me up to Edoras, I am sure King Éomer will confirm my identity"

He watched the Rider shift slightly, then bark out a command in Rohirric to one of the others. The chosen man wheeled his horse around, galloping over to where Suldal stood patiently waiting for her rider. He stared closely at her back, bending from the saddle before turning back and visibly shaking his head. The leader stepped back from Elrond, bowing his head "My lord, I apologise for my behaviour; I have been proven in the wrong, please forgive my manners and actions toward you. They were most inappropriate. Again I apologise..." he backed off, gesturing for the _Èored _to break ranks so Elrond could pass.

As he gathered up Suldal's reins the Elf-lord looked back at his former challenger. "Your apologies are accepted Sir, we will forget this little incident and let bygones be bygones"

"My lord" The Rider bowed again, clearly relieved he wasn't going to be hauled up in a court of law.

* * *

As soon as they were out of earshot Elrond allowed himself the luxury of a laugh, how could he have caused trouble? He didn't even know the man's name and King Éomer had barely seen him at the coronation (and later wedding celebrations), despite his being the bride's father.

That wedding, one of the happiest and yet bittersweet days of his life. To finally see Arwen wed was wonderful, but it also meant he would not keep his final promise to Celebrian; that she would see the whole family together one day. He now knew that had been a rash promise at best, but it had been the only thing he could manage to say. Elrond bowed his head as ghosts threatened to drown him, Suldal stopping and making a concerned noise as his weight sagged in the saddle.

"_Pado lim_ Sudal _uin lhaew_" He managed to whisper. With a disbelieving roll of an eye the mare obeyed, going at a steady evenly stepped pace.

Several miles later Elrond managed to shake off his misery and let the mare use her long striding canter at its best. His raw grief for Celebrian had long been tempered down, it should not ruin his journey toward a reunion. As they rode across Rohan his sharp elf-eyes were able to glory in the country, a rugged and wild grassland that he remembered seeing as the Alliance marched for Mordor.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Pado lim _= Walk on**

**_uin lhaew = _I'm not sick**

**Reviews please**


	4. Minas Tirith: Mar

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ for being my sole reviewer. I am now creating a new rule, if you want to Story Alert this PLEASE review as well. **

** Sorry this chapter took a while but it's extra long to make up for it. **

**NB The entire of the (english) discussion; from "**Elrond replied in the same tongue**" to the end of that section, is actually spoken in Sindarin but it would have taken to long and been to bothersome to write out then re-translate. These rendered conversations will pop up through the story and I will attach a note saying so at the head of any appropriate chapter**

* * *

Three days later Elrond topped a rise and smiled, at the command "_Daro_" Suldal stopped dead. There in front of them rose the mountain of Mindolluin, attached to it, the city Minas Anor; Capital of Gondor and home of his mortal kin. He reached down and patted Suldal's neck lightly "This is it _mellon nin_, our new home" the mare's ears went forward at the mention of _home_, he chuckled; no doubt she was linking it to _stable_ and _groom_ and (most importantly to her) _food.

* * *

_

As they rode up through the city streets Elrond was free to marvel at the change that had occurred since he'd last been in the city. Every house had a garden, most overflowing with bushes and trees. Children laughed and waved as he passed, climbing up the tall trees that sat in every gate square. The gates themselves were mithril and walls had been repaired with the best stone.

Yet grandest of all was the sight of the White Tree, standing tall and laden with blossom. Proclaiming without doubt that the true king of Gondor was alive and ruling

"My lord?" the young stable boy stepped up to his side as he dismounted

"This mare has borne me a long way, take her and feed her well... the best you have." Still looking down at the youngster, despite having dismounted, he continued "She is an Elven horse and also half meara, if you want her to do anything a polite request should suffice" After handing the boy the reins he suddenly spun around and took hold of the bridle's cheek pieces, locking the mare's eyes with his own, "_Avo deilio_"

When Suldal made to lower her head in submission he released her and turned away to find another boy, this one dressed as a page, on his other side.

"Do you wish to be taken to the king my lord?" the voice was quiet and respectful

Elrond nodded, once again mentally reminding himself to speak the common tongue "I do".

* * *

He followed the boy through a labyrinth of passages and corridors that was the main building in the Citadel. Guards posed no questions and bowed deeply when they saw him, courtiers doing the same. Finally the page stopped at a fairly plain wooden door and knocked twice.

"Come in" Aragorn's warm voice came from the other side, the boy opened the door and stepped in

"An important visitor for you, Your Majesties"

Leaning to peep around the door Elrond saw his adoptive son smile

"Thank you Bergil, send him in and you may go"

The boy bowed and Elrond ducked back to his former place just before the page, _Bergil_ he mentally amended, returned. Instead of coming forward this time Bergil stood back from the entry and ushered him into the room before closing the door behind.

* * *

Aragorn stared as their visitor entered. Automatically he stood and bowed in Elven fashion "_Hîr_ Elrond, _Govannen hí na 'lass__"_

Elrond replied in the same tongue "Sit down Aragorn, I should bow to you" The king obeyed but also shook his proud head "No... never bow to me"

"Father!" the delight in Arwen's voice was undisguised, Elrond accepted her embrace and returned it firmly

"Undómiel" When she released him he stepped back slightly, then took the offered seat at the table in the centre of the room. Now he had time to look around he realised that this was probably part of the private quarters. It was a small room, on one side two deep windows looked out over the city. In the other walls there were doors, the one he'd come through and two on each of the others which no doubt led to the ante-chambers of the bedrooms.

Aragorn noticed the look in his father-in-law's eyes as he quickly surveyed the entire room. To prevent himself from panicking he cut a fair sized slice off the loaf of fruit-bread that sat in the centre of the table, put it on a plate, buttered it and then pushed it into Elrond's hand.

"Thank you" The elf lord lifted the plate off the table and took a bite of the bread. He nodded in appreciation "This is good, very good"

Aragorn gave a relieved smile, glancing at Arwen he saw she was doing the same, like him having read in that comment an appreciation for their living quarters. Elrond finished his bread and sat back, letting them pick the time to speak. Arwen went first

"I didn't expect to see you Father we..." she had trailed off with a choking noise. Aragorn finished the sentence

"We thought you had sailed to the west with Galadriel and the others."

Elrond lent back in his chair and placed his hands on the arms, slowly letting his fingers curl around the carved wood, delaying the time when he would have to tell his story. A gentle cough from Aragorn finally indicated that he could put it off no longer.

"I nearly did sail... but before I stepped aboard the boat a flash of foresight came. What it showed made me realise that I still had a life to live here on Arda" he raised his eyes away from their study of the carvings and held Arwen's gaze for a long moment, trying to work out if she had told Aragorn of exactly what _she_ had seen. The tiny shake of her head provided his answer.

"Hypocrite" it should have stung but the warm love behind it removed all hurt "And you were so cross with me for turning back." He glanced back at his daughter to see her grey eyes dancing with laughter.

"Truce?" he held out a hand but Aragorn spoke before she could answer

"Where is Vilya?"

Elrond looked at him "Haldir took it across the sea, with instructions to give it to Celebrían..." Arwen made a strange sound, something between a cough and a giggle. "Are you alright Undómiel?"

She nodded but still replied in Quenya "_Nalyë indolóra atar? Ammë nehtuvas_"

Elrond grimaced slightly and looked to the ceiling as he spoke "_Áni apsenë Haldir_"

Aragorn frowned, he knew very little Quenya and couldn't even grasp the gist of his adoptive fathers reply, much less his wife's first comment, though it had obviously caused some problem for Elrond.

"What did you say?"

The elf lord looked at him "It doesn't matter Aragorn, just something I should have remembered earlier" he smiled slightly "The city looks much better than it did last time I came, more like the Minas Anor of old."

The king noticed the tactful subject change and followed it "People are beginning to use that name again, now that Mordor is beaten there is little to guard against..."

"And perhaps also because the return of the king has allowed a new sun to rise" Elrond watched as Aragorn dropped his head, something that looked suspiciously like a blush creeping over his cheeks. "Or were you being modest enough not to mention that part?"

"_Atar_!" a partially enraged exclamation came from Arwen, Elrond gave up on his teasing and laughed at the looks on their faces. Gradually they understood and also joined in.

* * *

They talked for hours, the sun passing across the sky out of sight. Only when it began to light the room with the golden light of evening did Elrond stir away from conversation

"_Annûn_" He stood up "I should like to see it from this view... as I did once before"

Aragorn also rose "_Ben iest lîn, tolo na nin_"

He led Elrond to the top of the Tower of Ecthelion, where a balcony looked southward and also provided clear veiws of the West and East.

"_Alae_" The elf-lord gazed into the distance, looking at something only he could see "You have cast down Minas Morgul and Barad-dur fell when the ring was destroyed... There is nothing left of the old Mordor" as the last rays sank to ground level he turned and faced Aragorn "Except the evil bled into its stones"

"That will take many years to vanish Hîr_" _

Elrond nodded to concede the truth in the statement, then walked away from the balustrade and back to the tower_ "__Boe i poston, lend and o Mithlond. Sevin dhâf ledhed Âr nin?_"

Aragorn nodded "_Sevig dhâf ledhed_. Elrond..._" _The elf turned back in the door way to look at him, suddenly seeing tears brimming in the man's eyes_ "__Avo esto nin_ _'Âr'. Ci adar nîn an-uir"_

_"Henion_ Aragorn"

* * *

As he went down the stairs to the chambers that he had been given Elrond thought hard about his actions. He had been wrong to address Aragorn so formally and it had obviously hurt him that he did so.

_Of course it would hurt_ said a voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Gil-Galad _You're the only father he's known for almost all his life and you treated him like your own son... then you suddenly go all formal because he's finally gained his birthright._

He opened the door and walked through the anteroom into the main sleeping chamber before sitting on the bed. He shook his head slowly, unable to voice the feelings he held inside save through a sigh.

* * *

**Translations (Sindarin)**

**_Avo deilio= _Don't play games_  
_**

**_Govannen hí na 'lass= _You are welcome here**

**_Annûn=_ West/Sunset**

**_Ben iest lîn, tolo na nin=_ As you wish, come with me**

**_Alae=_ Behold**

**_Boe i poston, lend and o Mithlond. Sevin dhâf ledhed Âr nin?=_ I need to rest,it was a long journey from Grey Havens. May I go, my king?**

**_Sevig dhâf ledhed= _You may go_  
_**

**_Avo esto nin_ _'Âr'. Ci adar nîn an-uir= _Don't call me "King_". _Forever you are my father_.  
_**

**_Henion=_ I understand**

**Translations (Quenya)**

**_Nalyë indolóra atar? Ammë nehtuvas= _Are you insane Father?Mother will kill him**

**_Áni apsenë Haldir= _Forgive me Haldir_  
_**

**_Atar=_ Father**

**Reviews please**_  
_


	5. Forgiveness, Discovery, Rememberance

**Thanks to _restoringthehistory_ and _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ for reviewing.**

_

* * *

_Elrond woke before dawn the next day, the knot in his stomach having unsettled any rest he'd attempted. But he knew what to do, what to say... in order to heal what wounds he had created.

Wounds that were still clearly evident when he entered the central chamber, where they had talked the previous afternoon. Arwen looked up and smiled but Aragorn merely gave him a nod and "_Hîr nin"_.

It was time, he took one deep breath and spoke "Estel..." Aragorn's head jerked up, the green eyes locking onto his own and making the next bit even harder. Elrond swallowed the sudden lump in his throat "_Díheno nin_, _Ú-ethelen naegrad gen na phithen__..."_ Aragorn continued to look at him impassively, but Elrond sensed the man's eyes widening as he dropped to his knees before him_ "__Iallon achen,díheno nin... ion nin__"_

"_Adar, Man?_" Arwen spoke first, confused by what was going on

"_Adar..." _Elrond looked back into Aragorn's eyes, acutely surprised to see the warmth in them "You do not have to beg, I had already forgiven you before the speech... I forgave you when you called me Estel" Aragorn smiled, suddenly turning from a grown man into the impish little boy he'd once been. Elrond felt himself being pulled upright as Aragorn stood from his chair.

"There was something I meant to show you last night, but it went completely out of my mind. Wait here and eat something while I fetch it." Before he could say anything Aragorn had gone. Elrond turned back to the table and picked up an apple, chewing each bite slowly. He'd just finished his second fruit when a creek from the door indicated Aragorn had returned. He faced his adoptive son and gave an enquiring look to the wrapped bundle in the man's arms.

"I found this when we ransacked Minas Morgul before casting it down, it seemed wise to do so in case any long lost treasures taken by Sauron's armies could be found and returned to their owners or next of kin." Aragorn took a deep breath "I discovered this in one of the top rooms, to be honest I nearly overlooked it until I saw the emblem worked into the grip" he held out the bundle and Elrond took it, slowly unwrapping the red cloth to reveal a long spear with its butt nearly split off.

* * *

Elrond staggered suddenly, dropping into a chair and letting the wrapping fall limply to the floor. Caressingly he ran his finger tips over the shaft, feeling the silky touch of the wood-grain. His eyes settled on the grip, made of dyed leather, tightly braided into the pattern that had adorned the banner he once carried; blue with twelve white stars. Then he turned his eyes onto the long blade and swallowing hard he began to read the inscription aloud;

_Gil-galad ech vae vaegannen matha  
Aith heleg nín i orch gostatha  
Nin cíniel na nguruthos  
Hon ess nín istatha... _

His voice trailed off, then he spoke in a whisper, gazing at the spear_ "_Aiglos". Brushing his hand over his eyes Elrond looked up "_Le hannon o guren_", his voice came out thick with tears "I thought this was either destroyed or lost forever. _Nan aear ar in elin...__" _he stopped "I don't know... how to say, what I should... or even what to say"

"You don't have to say anything" Aragorn's voice had suddenly become very fatherly, "We understand"

For the first time that morning Elrond managed to smile.

* * *

**Elvish**

**_Hîr nin_= My Lord**

**_Díheno nin=_ Forgive me**

**_Ú-ethelen naegrad gen na phithen=_ I didn't mean to hurt you with what I said**

**_Iallon achen= _I beg of you_  
_**

**_ion nin_= My Son**

**_Adar,__Man?_= Father, What?**

**_Le hannon o guren_= I thank you from my heart**

**_Nan aear ar in elin_= By the sea and the stars**

**As for the poem;**

_**Gil-galad wields a well-made spear**_  
_**My spear of ice, the orc will fear;**_  
_**having seen me; by the shadow of death**_  
_**He will know my name.**_

**_Aiglos_ means Icicle (though that isn't actually relevent to this story). Some of the words/phrase translated above I will not re-translate when they turn up again... you are forewarned.**

**Reviews please**


	6. Battles with Paperwork

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _NectarAndAmbrosia_ for reviewing last chapter, also anonymous reviewer _jedininjamellomaster_ for reviewing Chapter 2**.

**Let the story continue**...

* * *

"_Naeg_!" groaned Aragorn as he and Faramir stumbled through the door "I hate councils, I'm sure orcs created them just to drive kings mad with boredom"

Elrond looked up from his game and gave both men an amused look "Why do you interrupt strategists in the middle of their battles with that unseemly noise?"

Faramir's curiosity was aroused "What are you playing?" he walked forward and peered over Elrond's shoulder

"You call it chess, Elves call it _Dagor__"_

Faramir gave the board a rueful look "The one noble game I was never able to master"

Aragorn laughed as Elrond gave his steward a welcoming look "Don't even say it Elrond, if you teach him the poor man will get so muddled up. It took me 3 years to work out what each Elven name for a piece corresponded to in Westron."

Faramir looked between the two, finally settling on Elrond "Do Elves give the pieces different names?"

Elrond nodded, tapping each piece as he named them "Castle is _Minas__, _Knight is _Rochir__, _Steward becomes _Cúnir__,_ Queen becomes _Ialor,_ King is _Âr_..."

"That's the easiest one" interjected Aragorn "It translates directly to the same thing"

Elrond nodded "Yes... And Solider becomes _Adan_"

"_Adan_?" Faramir queried

"Man" translated Aragorn, then with mock dejection "Trust us to get the lowest places"

"Not quite, Hobbits aren't represented" Elrond spoke with half laugh half seriousness behind his words, moving another piece.

Aragorn tilted his head in concession "One day they will be".

There was a sharp clack of wood on wood and Arwen spoke triumphantly "_Awarthog dûr Adar_?"

Elrond studied the board and then put up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender "_Awarthon dûr_". He stood up and stretched the kinks from his back. Arwen also rose and Faramir bowed to her, slightly hampered by the large pack of papers he carried.

She smiled sympathetically "More reports?"

"Yes My Lady, we have to read them through thoroughly in order to asses the various problems"

"In that case I will clear the table and leave you to it" the smile she gave them was too bright as she walked into one of the antechambers carrying the board and pieces she and Elrond had been using minutes before. Faramir set down his burden with a sigh and began to spread the papers out over the table. Aragorn dropped into the chair his wife had just vacated, placing his head in his hands before realising that his father in law was still in the room.

"You can go if you want Elrond, no need to join us in being bored to death"

"Nay, I will stay. Erestor taught me a few tricks about lightening these things..." in response to Faramir's enquiring look "Erestor was my Chief Counsellor in Imladris, the closest thing I had to a Steward. He also taught the children and Aragorn their book lessons"

"And don't I remember it" Aragorn muttered under his breath, Elrond wisely chose to pretend that his sharp ears had heard nothing and instead picked up the sheet of parchment that lay closest to him

"_Report of damage and compensation required for the region of Anórien after the War of the Ring_" he read aloud, the others saw his eyebrows shoot up "Six pages! Anórien is one of the smallest regions in Gondor isn't it? How long will the other reports be if the smallest is that size?"

Aragorn sighed "The others are only three pages at the most of fairly factual information"

"Councillor Arnubên is very long winded and courtly with his ways" stated Faramir regretfully, gathering the rest of the report into one pile "Boromir fell asleep during one of his speeches four winters ago, though that might have been because he'd only got back from a three week patrol that dawn"

Elrond felt his lip curl into a half smile "Give that to me" he held out his hand for the papers "I'll go through them and write out the important bits in shorter terms."

Faramir relinquished the remainder of the report with a relieved look and Aragorn summed up their combined feelings "You're a saviour Elrond. _Hannon le_."

"You are both welcome, no point wasting time reading between the lines on something when another more important report is written plainly"

The Steward nodded in agreement and passed a different piece of paper to Aragorn "Now my lord, Prince Imrahil writes that Belfalas has had a fine harvest and the villages and towns are prospering, he is willing to send you the surplus stores they cannot hold so they may be distributed amongst more needy people outside his control..."

* * *

As the two men ground down into discussions about distribution and rebuilding of damaged settlements Arwen peeped through a crack in the door and smiled, sitting at the end of the table her father was bent over the report, frowning slightly and writing notes. Exactly the sort of thing he'd delegated to Erestor because he disliked it when they were in Imladris. She shook her head, remembering to never try to fathom the reasoning of a male from any race, and went to seek out Éowyn. There at least she might find sense.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Naeg= _(lit "Pain") used in the context of "argh"_  
_**

**_Dagor= _Battle_  
_**

**_Minas= _City_  
_**

**_Rochir= _Horse-lord_  
_**

**_Cúnir= _Archer**

**_Ialor= _Herald_  
_**

**_Âr= _King_  
_**

**_Adan= _Man_  
_**

**_Awarthog dûr Adar= _Do you yield Father_?  
_**

**_Awarthon dûr= _I yield **_  
_


	7. The Woes of Éowyn

**Thank you to _Oleanne_ and _Kaisaan Greenle_af for reviewing. This chapter runs directly on from the previous one, no real time gap**

* * *

Éowyn was nowhere to be found in the citadel so Arwen went down to the stables, the Sheildmaiden of Rohan loved her horses like children.

"_Mas he_, Asfaloth?" She stroked the grey's nose, he snorted and shook his head in a way that clearly said '_I don't know_' .

Arwen laughed lightly as she fetched his tack, then stopped. Someone was crying quietly nearby, obviously trying not to be heard. Indeed if she had had mortal hearing Arwen thought she might not have heard the soft noises. Cautiously she set the saddle back onto its rack and crept along the row of stalls on tiptoe, peeping around the last one on the right-hand side. Éowyn lay curled up in the large pile of straw between her horse's front feet and the stone wall that was part of the stable.

"Éowyn?" Arwen stepped into the stall, slipping down the gap between the wooden partition and the tethered bay mare who stood guard over her mistress. The elf knelt down next to her new friend/companion, stretching out a hand to touch the woman's back. "Éowyn... what's wrong?"

Éowyn twisted in a nearly impossible move, pulling herself around and up into Arwen's chest, burying her head in the other's shoulder. "Child... g...gone" she whispered through the barely checked tears, before breaking down again.

Arwen held her tight, feeling the woman's fingers clutch her dress and the shoulder start to dampen. She couldn't comfort Éowyn, couldn't say anything useful.

* * *

Neither she nor Aragorn had given much thought to having children this early on, in spite (or perhaps because of) the vision she had seen. They both had an unspoken agreement that any child of theirs should be raised in peaceful, easy times. Times which, though on nearby horizons, had not yet arrived.

Faramir and Éowyn were completely different, and in a way Arwen could see why. Both had had relatively tough family times; Éowyn loosing both her well-loved parents within a year of each other, then seeing her uncle fall into a living death at the hands of Saruman and her cousin mortally wounded by Orcs. Faramir; his mother died when he was very young and Denethor hadn't wanted a second son, had always preferred Boromir... so for 36 of his years he had lived in his brother's shadow, even beyond Boromir's untimely death. They wanted to bring children up in a different way, to have a new start. And now this...

* * *

"_Ni nûr achen_" she spoke softly, slipping back into Sindarin, hoping that the rhythm of the words would sooth Éowyn. Slowly she began to rock back and forth, humming a song that had been old even when she was born. Eventually Éowyn stopped crying, at least she ran out of tears, and sat back on her heels

"I'm sorry Arwen..." she bowed her head, unbound hair tumbling down over her shoulders to hide her face.

"Éowyn..." Arwen used one finger to lift her friend's chin, as Aragorn had done to her when she'd come to his coronation. The White Lady of Rohan's eyes were still dark with grief, her face wan and sickly "You should be in bed, please go and rest"

Éowyn shook her head, starting to climb to her feet "He must not know. Faramir must _never_ know"

Arwen was quicker, leaping up and grabbing the other woman's hands "Did you tell him you were with child?" Éowyn shook her head again, Arwen smiled slightly "Then I propose a plan; we both go back up to your home now, you shall go to bed and I will do needle work nearby until dinner-time. Then we both go to dinner with the men"

"I'd rather ride out" stated Éowyn, firmly non-committal to the plan.

"Absolutely not!" Arwen grew to her full elvish height with a healer's anger. "Éowyn daughter of Éomund, you will either come and rest willingly or I will use force to make you..."

The lady meekly allowed herself to be led back into the Citadel and put to bed.

* * *

For the following hours Arwen contented herself by embroidering the new Gondorian style dress that Aragorn had bought her with designs of Nightingales. It seemed a fitting design, the first name he'd ever called her had been _Tinúviel_. Besides, the little birds were so sweet and naturally modest that they deserved to be worked in the finest thread, onto the best cloth. Eventually the evening bell rang, signalling that it was time for dinners to be consumed. Arwen roused her friend and helped Éowyn to dress in one of the dresses she'd bought with her from Rohan.

"Ready?" the elleth watched her friend carefully, glad to see colour back in the Rohirric woman's cheeks

"As I ever won't be" Éowyn gave a wry smile "I'd better get it over with though."

The two women entered the dining chamber to find Aragorn, Elrond and Faramir already seated. Éowyn curtsied to the first two and sat down next to her husband.

"While we've been ploughing through council reports what have you been up to?" Aragorn was first to take an interest

Arwen gave Éowyn a quick look and answered cheerily "Sewing."

Aragorn held her gaze for a minute then turned back to Faramir, who had been gathering up the courage to speak. Elrond shot a concerned look over the table in Éowyn's direction, Arwen noticed she'd already lost all colour from her face and was picking at the food rather than eating...

Faramir stopped midway through his starting breath and looked to his wife, sensing something was amiss. He put a hand on her arm "Éowyn, are you alright?"

She looked at him, everyone saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Faramir." She leapt up from the table and dashed out of the room.

The steward half rose from his seat, glancing at Aragorn "May I...?"

Aragorn nodded "Go to her."

Faramir stood up properly and followed after his wife.

* * *

He found her at the end of one of the corridors, her forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window.

"Éowyn?" she didn't reply so Faramir stepped closer, gathering her into an embrace. "What was that about?"

She twisted in his arms, pressing closer against him as the tears poured down her cheeks "I'm sorry Faramir, I'm so sorry"

"What for love? You've done nothing wrong." he spoke gently, internally scared stiff about what might have happened.

Éowyn nodded her head "I have... I'm a murderer."

Faramir bent his neck to look down at her "Éowyn? What riddles are you talking?"

A small hiccupping sob was muffled in his jerkin, then she spoke "I was pregnant, I found out a few days ago and was going to tell you today..." she took a short gasping breath "When I woke up this morning the sheets were stained with blood..." she dissolved into hopeless tears, close on hysterical.

"Oh Éowyn..." Faramir gripped her tightly in his arms, nearly crushing her against him "Shhh, shhh now... it wasn't your fault, these things happen. No-one can stop them. Hush..." He began to rock back and forth on his feet, unknowingly behaving in exactly the same way as Arwen had that afternoon, save that they were both standing rather than on their knees. As his wife quietened in his embrace he made a snap decision. Cricking his neck to look behind him he spotted the silhouette of one of the Royal Pages at the other end of the corridor.

"Bergil"

The boy trotted up and Faramir remembered once more quite what a debt he owed to the lad's father

"Please inform their Majesties that I am taking my wife home and also convey my sincere apologies." Bergil nodded and scurried off. Faramir waited for a few minutes to make sure they wouldn't run in to anyone who had seen the page leave, then wrapped one arm around his wife's waist and led her through the castle back to their home.

* * *

"Bed for you." The first words from his lips when they walked in the door, and Éowyn was grateful for them. She knew she'd shamed him by behaving like that in front of the King and Lord Elrond. Shamed him, shamed herself and also shamed Rohan. She didn't deserve the care Arwen had given her that afternoon, and now she most definitely didn't deserve her husband's love. By being sent to bed she had time to think and rationally phrase something of an apology.

But by the time Faramir slipped through the connecting door of their two chambers she still hadn't managed it.

"I -"

"Hush" he sat down on the edge of her bed and stroked the hair back from her forehead "I bear you no ill will for anything... and tonight was understandable also."

Éowyn didn't realise she was crying until she felt his thumb running across her cheek, wiping the salty drops away. She stared up at her husband, grieving blue eyes meeting compassionate brown as his hand slid down under her chin to rest on her shoulder.

"Sleep, Éowyn; White Lady of Rohan. Sleep and be healed." gently Faramir bent, pressing a chaste kiss to his love's forehead. Her eyes closed slowly, her head tilting to rest on one cheek. Only then did he stand up, taking hold of the candle stick that stood at her bedside and blowing it out.

"Sweet dreams my love." whispered the Steward as he crept back to his own room.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Mas he_, Asfaloth = Where is she, Asfaloth?**

**_Ni nûr achen_ = I am sad for you**

**Reviews please...**


	8. Hidden talents with music

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ for reviewing. **

* * *

Within the next month life in the Citadel settled down and the people began to think they knew everything about their king and his 'elf friend' Lord Elrond. How wrong they were.

Arwen woke to hear the birds singing their morning chorus, but surprisingly the space in the bed normally occupied by Aragorn was empty

"Estel? _Mas ci_?" she whispered quietly, ready for him to be playing a trick on her. For reply a twittering tune came through the doorway from the balcony. Arwen pulled her wrapper around her shoulders and slipped out of bed, her bare feet pattering quietly on the floorboards. Her husband was sat on a low stool by the balustrade with his back to her, apparently watching the sun come up. But there was music too. Moving slightly to the side Arwen saw he held a wooden pipe in his hands, fingers rising up and down along its length. The tune that was produced reminded her of the hobbits, their jovial ways and merriment.

As the final note faded Aragorn became aware that he wasn't alone, half turning his head he spotted Arwen and lowered the pipe

"Spying, _meleth nin_?"

She smiled "I did not know you could play."

Aragorn could only return the gesture "Few do... I was taught by Halbarad, one of my close kin in the Dunedain. It has been many years since I last tried out a tune..." He looked his wife full on "How did that one sound to you?"

There was worry in his tone and Arwen hastened to reassure him "It was wonderful Estel, I have rarely heard anything with such depth and meaning."

Aragorn smiled. She wasn't lying, he could hear the sincerity in her voice.

"I used that old song that Gandalf would hum sometimes" he sang a snatch "_The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began."_

Arwen nodded "I remember it... your tune summed up that little foursome completely, and the spirit of their kin."

"_Hannon le, thinnelig vain"_ He watched as she blushed pink.

"Estel!"The word was hissed and reprimanding

Widening his eyes at the scolding, Aragorn acted surprised and shocked "_Man? Ha thand, ci bain._" A shy smile began to creep over Arwen's face, he noticed and a crafty idea began to form in his mind_ "__Gellon ir i chent gîn calar ir gladhog, Rîs vell_._"_

"Stop it." she was properly smiling now, her blue-grey eyes laughing with him. Aragorn stood up and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders

"Only if you stop denying the truth... say 'I am beautiful'." He saw her hesitate "Go on, say it"

"_Ni bain_" Arwen whispered softly. Aragorn nodded and kissed her, deepening it as far as he dared. When they pulled apart he kept his arms round her

"Get dressed, I have council this morning but then perhaps we can ride out. _No maer i aur meleth-nin_"

Arwen kissed his cheek and walked back into the bedroom, she turned her head at the last minute "_Galu_ Aragorn"

The King ran his hands through his hair and groaned in reply.

* * *

Half an hour later and the council were sitting growing impatient and agitated, Aragorn among them. After being punctual for week after week Elrond was late, and he still hadn't turned up

The King turned as Faramir reappeared through the side door... alone.

"Well, where is he?" Aragorn knew he was snapping at the wrong person, but his patience was exhausted.

Faramir bowed slightly and walked forward until he was close enough to whisper "My lord, I think there is something you should experience for yourself."

Aragorn gave his steward a sideways look before standing up "The council is postponed until further notice." He followed Faramir out, ignoring the grumbles behind.

When they were nearly at Elrond's chambers Aragorn pulled his steward aside "What has happened?"

"Nothing my lord... Listen."

Aragorn did so. At first he heard nothing, then clearly came the pure notes of an Elven harp. He stood still for a split second longer then broke into a quick walk up the corridor, creeping the last few metres to the door. He twisted back to look at Faramir, using army hand signs he'd learnt under Ecthelion

_Fetch the Queen, quietly _

The steward nodded and slipped away

* * *

When he returned minutes later with Arwen in tow they tiptoed to join Aragorn by the door. As the queen approached Aragorn noticed a smile spreading on her face, he hissed a question at her, knowing her elf ears would pick out the words

"I didn't know he could play the harp?"

"He hasn't played since _Naneth_ left" her eyes showed a brief hint of grief "I wondered if he'd forgotten how to"

Aragorn nodded slowly, understanding what was in his wife's heart

"What's that?" Faramir whispered, his ear pressed against the door listening to the rhythmic Elvish that coming from inside

_Gil-galad aran edhellen.  
I thelegain linnar asson:  
I âr vedui dôr vain a lain  
Min eryd ar min aearon..._

Aragorn whispered a hasty translation;

"Gil-galad was an Elven-king.  
Of him the harpers sadly sing:  
the last whose realm was fair and free  
between the Mountains and the Sea"

As the next verse started he didn't bother, simply listening to Elrond. Sindarin did the poem's subject better justice than Westron.

_Megil dîn anann, ech dîn laeg,  
Thôl hílol dîn palan-dirnen:  
In geil ernediaid menel  
Tírannen ned thangail vith dîn_

_Palan-nerant 'wachae io and  
Ar ú-ben pêd had i dhortha  
Tinu dîn dannant mi dhúath  
Mi Vordor, i merchaint ennas._

"Glorfindel told me that _Adar_ made that song shortly after the battle, when he'd returned to Rivendell and the grief became slightly less raw" Arwen whispered, both men looked at her in surprise

"Elrond wrote that?" Aragorn kept his voice low but couldn't disguise the awe "It's one of the most famous songs of the Third Age"

Arwen nodded then pressed a finger to her lips. They all froze, hardly daring to move

"You can come in, whoever you are. I know you're there" Elrond's voice was warm but held a slight challenge.

Aragorn placed his hand on the door and let it swing open to reveal them.

* * *

"I should have guessed" Elrond was sitting on the bed with one leg tucked across in front of him to steady the harp.

"_Gannadal vae _Elrond" Aragorn decided to ignore his foster father's remark but couldn't stop part of a smile sneaking out.

"_Hannon le_._" _Elrond noticed Faramir was standing by the door looking bemused "Well Master Steward, what did you think of a humble Peredhel's effort to remember his king?" He watched as the man laughed

"Hardly humble my lord... many have heard of that song, particularly the nobles."

The elf lord kept his gaze impassive "Including yourself... and Boromir?"

Faramir shook his head "Not until today, in any form. Boromir may have heard it on his travels, he went further afield than I." He shuffled, clearly uncomfortable in the room "May I have permission to leave Sire? There is some... paperwork that needs doing" Aragorn nodded and watched as his Steward exited the room at such a pace that it could almost be called fleeing.

"_Man i theled i agor_? " Arwen looked to her husband. Aragorn sighed and switched the conversation to Sindarin.

"I think Faramir is scared of elves"

* * *

**Ah, minor cliffhanger**

**Translations **

**_Mas ci = _Where are you_  
_**

**_meleth nin = _my love_  
_**

**_Hannon le, thinnelig vain= _Thank you my beautiful Evenstar.**

**_Man? Ha thand, ci bain = _What? It's true, you are beautiful_._**

**_Gellon ir i chent gîn calar ir gladhog, Rîs vell= _****I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh**,**beloved Queen**

**_Ni bain= _I am beautiful**

**_No maer i aur meleth nin= _May the morning be good my love_  
_**

**_Galu= _Good luck **

**_Gannadal vae_= you play the harp well**

**_Man i theled i agor?_ = Why did he do that?**

**The song is a Sindarin translation of "The Lay of Gil-galad"

* * *

**

**The tune that Aragorn was playing is supposed to be the pipe-music at the start of LOTR soundtrack "Concerning Hobbits".**

**More reviews please**_  
_


	9. Friends in Need

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf _for reviewing. **

**The first conversation is spoken in Sindarin but written in English for convenience **

* * *

"Scared of Elves? What's so scary about us?" Elrond was incredulous

"Nothing exactly but..." Aragorn looked at both of them "I'll start at the beginning, you've heard of Steward Ecthelion II, Denethor's father?" They nodded "I worked at his side in the guise of Thorongil when I was younger. He died the year after Faramir was born.

Denethor didn't trust me, at the very least didn't like my influence over the army. That's why I left before Ecthelion died, besides a fact that I was nervous of fame, there was no reason to cause a rift between father and son anymore than possible. Denethor knew about my being friends with Gandalf, which made him distrust the wizard..."

"Istar**" **interjected Elrond

Aragorn tilted his head in concession "...Istar even more. Of course Gandalf was always friendly with Elves, or those of Elvish kin, so Denethor grew to distrust your kind as well. Faramir has been raised with the kind of knowledge his father chooses to bestow. Now... he finds his world changed for the better, but struggles to understand the opposition to his father's words. Unfortunately I haven't been that much help to him." Aragorn bowed his head "I'm so familiar with Elves... I forget that Eldar are completely different to Men, even my own Dunadain"

"To your credit Aragorn, sometimes _I_ forgot you were mortal rather than an elf" Elrond smiled slightly.

The king bowed slightly "I am honoured"

"But how can we help Faramir?" Arwen was frowning "He's on edge whenever Father and I are both in the same room as him... I can't try to ease his fear by speaking to him alone due to propriety

"And he'd bolt if I tried" Elrond's voice was sad "I think Legolas may be our only hope... and he's miles away in Mirkwood at the moment"

A quiet voice came from the doorway, speaking Westron as though it had forgotten all other languages and clung to what was remembered "No he isn't."

* * *

They all looked in that direction to see an exhausted elf slumped against the frame. His blonde hair was tangled and dirty, the clothes he wore were muddy and worn. His eyes had no playful glint left, just misery and a sense of many trials that had been forged through.

Aragorn was first to recognise his old companion, crying out joyfully "Legolas!" As his brain fully registered the state of the elf concern entered his voice "_Mellon nin_, _man carnen le_?"

Legolas stared back blankly, his eyes glazing. Elrond was the first to realise the inevitable, tossing his harp onto the bed and leaping toward the younger elf "_Edraith asson__!"_

As Aragorn made to rise he saw Legolas pitch forward, Elrond just about grabbing him before he reached the point of no return

"Legolas?"

"He's passed out_"_ Elrond shifted to move the Ellon's weight so he could bear it more easily, then realised there wasn't actually much weight to hold_. _

Aragorn got over his shock, strode over and wrapped one of the unconscious elf's arms around his shoulders, frowning as he did so "There's nothing of him... I know elves are lighter built than mortal men, but he shouldn't be this light." He glanced at Elrond "Should he?"

The healer shook his head "_Lá_." He copied Aragorn so that Legolas stood upright but sagging between the two of them.

Aragorn shifted again to take more of the weight "I think can carry him by myself, I'll take him to one of the nearby rooms" he crouched slightly and Elrond helped him to steady the elf on his back. They slipped out quietly, Arwen running ahead to open the door of the required room.

As Aragorn lowered him down onto the bed Legolas moaned and half opened an eye.

* * *

"Where am I?" he croaked

Elrond sat down next to him, leaning over so he was firmly in the other elf's vision "_Le na vellyn, odulen an nestad len_"

"Elrond..." Legolas whispered, the word grating his parched throat. He made to speak again but stopped as the healer placed a finger on his lips

"_Avo bedo_..." Elrond stood up, a kind smile on his face "I will see you are cared for Thranduilion, now rest"

Legolas ignored him, struggling to sit up "Elrond..." he watched the lord of Imaldris turn away, fear and rage made him shout "_Lasto nin! _Aragorn, Arwen... _le iallon_"

Aragorn walked forward, his eyes fixed on the panicking elf "What do you want to say?"

"You asked what happened to me... _Adar_'s dislike of Dwarves, that's what happened. After we'd been to Fangorn and the Glittering caves, Gimli took me to the Lonely Mountain to meet his people" the eyes that had burned bitter in naming his father softened as Legolas thought of the Dwarves. "Their halls were beautiful, very different from Elvish architecture, but beautiful in its own way. It made me realise what a sour ghost-land Moria was compared to a lived in city such as Erebor. And the people..." his eyes lit up "They welcomed me as though I was one of their own, long lost in the coming, even though I was not only an elf but the son of the king who held thirteen of their people captive."

"What of Glóin?" Elrond had turned back and was standing by the doorway listening to the story.

Legolas laughed "He gave me the warmest welcome of the entire lot, and nearly broke my wrist doing so. There is no ill will on his side anymore..." the joy faded "_Nae_, I wish I could say the same of my own kin"

Aragorn raised one eyebrow gently "Do you want to tell us, or is it too raw?"

"I will tell" Legolas heaved in a long breath "When I returned home, _Adar_ was pleased to see me and asked about what great adventures I had had... I declined to tell him." He shrugged "And besides, I had none. I gave the hobbits the glory and also you, Aragorn. You are far more deserved of fame than I" he watched the former ranger drop his head.

"I couldn't have done it alone, the fellowship deserves more praise"

"Neither could the threads of the Fellowship have come so far undamaged without your leadership."

"_Ha thand _Aragorn" Elrond spoke quietly, watching his foster son "Go on Legolas".

"There isn't much more to tell. _Adar_ refused to see my point of view and grew furious when I asked to bring Gimli to Eryn Lasgalen. In fact he banished me, and named me _Mellon-i-Nogothrim_." He said the last sentence bluntly and without emotion.

All three listeners flinched, understanding the intended insult; Elrond muttered something under his breath in Quenya, Arwen shot him a look then shook her head at Aragorn

"You don't want to know"

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_man carnen le= _What happened to you**

**_Edraith asson= _Save him**

**___Le na vellyn, odulen an nestad len= _You are with friends, I am here to heal you**

**_Avo bedo= _Don't speak**

**_Lasto nin!= _Listen to me**

**_le iallon_=I beg you**

**_Nae_ =Alas**

**_Ha thand = _It's true**

**_Mellon-i-Nogothrim =_ Friend of the Stunted Ones**

**Quenya**

**_Istar=_ Wise one (the true name for Gandalf, Saruman and the other wizards) **

**_Lá = _No**

**Posting may be disrupted for a while, have to get back to school routine**

**Please review (review= less disruption)**


	10. Mutual Benefit

**Sorry for the delay. Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf _for reviewing**

* * *

After Legolas had finally consented to lie down and rest Elrond returned to his room, recalling the fact he'd completely abandoned his harp in full view of anyone. But someone got there before him...

He walked round the corner to see a person in his room, bent over with his back to the door way. Using all his warrior training and Elf skill Elrond crept forward without making a sound

"What are you doing?" he whispered in the intruder's ear

The man jumped and spun round, it was Faramir.

"My lord, I meant no harm" the Steward's eyes were wide, apparently from being startled, but Elrond's practised gaze picked out the fear that was just hidden beneath the surface. "I came back to look for you but the room was empty and that beautiful harp was lying in clear view on the bed. It required a guard Sir, so I am fulfilling that capacity" he stopped for breath and Elrond peered behind him, sure enough the harp lay there untouched except for a soft cloth placed underneath the tuning pegs (which had ended up facing downward) to prevent any more damaging bumps.

"Thank you Faramir." he gave the man an enquiring look "Why were you looking for me?"

"I- I came to apologise for my behaviour earlier, it was most impolite to leave in that fashion. I have disgraced my upbringing."

"Why did you?" Elrond saw Faramir frown and elaborated "Why did you leave like that if you knew it was wrong?"

Faramir shuffled his feet again and looked down "I was terrified, manners vanished from my comprehension. I was too scared to do anything but flee." he swallowed "My Lord, I mean no disrespect or insult when I say this... I find your kind, Elves, frightening."

Elrond gently placed on hand on the man's shoulder, deciding to test Aragorn's theory subtly "Is it because of Denethor?"

The steward nodded sadly "He drummed that and like messages into my brain as soon as I was old enough to understand. It takes a lot to wear away ideas like that, even if you know they are wrong"

"What about Legolas?"

"Legolas?" Faramir raised his eyes, frowning as he thought "The light haired archer? The one from Mirkwood?" He met Elrond's nod with a firm warmth in his gaze "He was kind, warm hearted. Yes, he was the first elf I met... and I like him."

There was a determination in the man's voice, Elrond breathed a mental sigh of relief

"If he was in trouble of some kind, would you help him?"

"Of course"

"After Council, please come back here. I have a task for you_" _

"_Urîk_" Faramir swore vehemently in Adûnaic "It's midday already and we haven't even started." Elrond started slightly, though not (as Faramir assumed), because he'd just realised how cross Arnubên and the others would be. "It's alright Elrond, I'll take some of the blame" he flicked his head sideways and led out of the room.

The elf stared after him, muted. He quickly packed up the harp and the jogged to catch up with Steward. "_Ki-bitha Adûnâyê_?"

"_Ni-bitha Adûnâyê_. Why does that bother you?"

"I thought it was a dead language, that it was swallowed deep into the sea with Númenor"

"My father made most certain that it remained spoken in Gondor, even as he made the Elvish tongue favoured by our forefathers rarer." Faramir stopped "But there's more to your curiosity than just that, isn't there? Out with it Lord Elrond..."

Elrond took a breath and prepared to explain.

"I do hope you're not pressuring my adoptive father into revealing private information Faramir." Aragorn's light and amused voice floated along the corridor "_Especially_ when the council is reassembled and waiting to start."

Faramir shook his head "No Sire"

"Well then, off we go to martyrdom"

Elrond caught his foster son's teasing sideways glance and Faramir smothered a laugh at the look on the Elf lord's face.

* * *

Once they had finally escaped Faramir and Elrond reconvened at the appointed spot

"What is this task?"

Elrond smiled softly, cradling a bowl of broth in his hands "Come with me"

* * *

He led the steward to the very room he'd departed when they met over the harp. Pushing open the door he stepped inside, Faramir following.

"Legolas!" the man stared at the elf, who sat propped on pillows and still looking very, very ill.

"Hullo Faramir, _Mae govannen _Elrond" Legolas smiled slightly, then strained to look beyond them "Where're Aragorn and Arwen?"

Elrond sat on the bed, fairly close to Legolas "Out riding... and I think Aragorn earned it, council was horrendous..."

Legolas cut in "Riding with an escort? Or by themselves?"

"By themselves, they are both perfectly capable of defence should the situation arise." Elrond was stopped once more, this time by barely suppressed sniggers. Legolas was quite obviously wriggling, pressing his lips tighter and tighter together, while Faramir had covered his mouth to hide a smile that threatened to split into open laughter.

"Oh do grow up, both of you!" Had he had a table to bang the bowl down on Elrond would have done so, instead he simple filled the spoon full of broth and slipped it into Legolas's mouth, thereby silencing all exclamations from that party as the younger ellon struggled not to choke "_Mado_, Legolas."

Spluttering, Legolas managed to swallow, then reached out with both hands for the bowl and spoon; his eyes widening and filling with hunger, he lapsed back into Sindarin "_Anno han enni_..." As Elrond withheld the broth, shaking his head, Legolas became more insistent "_Anno han enni...Han aníron_!"

Though the healer inside him resisted, Elrond gave in "Eat slowly, you'll make yourself sick otherwise"

"_Gweston_" Legolas gripped the bowl tightly in one hand, and promptly started to gulp down spoonfuls of the hot broth at high speed.

"Legolas!"Elrond tried to retrieve the bowl, to no avail, all he got was a jab from the younger elf's elbow.

"Stop" Faramir leant over and swiftly prised Legolas's fingers away, lifting the bowl into his own hands, out of range "Didn't you hear Lord Elrond? You'll be sick if you eat too much so soon after a lack"

"But I'm hungry... and it's only thin broth."

Elrond's voice became firm "That fact is the only thing that's stopped you from being ill already Thranduilion... now try again, slowly this time." He nodded and Faramir returned the broth to Legolas.

As an experiment Elrond briefly turned his head away, almost instantly there was a rapid glulping, instantly followed by Faramir's sharp admonishment "Slowly!"

When he looked back Faramir was standing, the bowl firmly in his grasp

"Please Faramir, I'm hungry... Elrond make him give it back" Legolas turned beseeching eyes on his elder

"It's for your own good Legolas." Elrond noted how the elf was sinking into the pillows, his whole body trembling with exertion. When Faramir returned the bowl the broth was nearly spilled, forcing the Steward to claim it again to prevent disaster.

"Please..." even the elf's voice was weaker. Elrond stood up and turned away again, though he didn't know why.

"You'll spill it and burn yourself, Legolas." There was a soft creek, he guessed Faramir had sat down on the bed "Let me..." a splashing followed by swallowing, then Faramir spoke softly "There, that's better isn't it?"

"Mmmhm" was Legolas's only comment.

Driven by curiosity Elrond glanced back. Faramir was sitting on the edge of the bed, close to Legolas, holding the bowl of broth and the spoon. As the elf lord watched he saw the Steward fill the spoon again and slip it into Legolas's mouth. Hiding a smile he crept out of the room unnoticed by either. The plan had worked, need was matched with need and both would be fine.

* * *

Legolas watched the wooden spoon return to the bowl, but held up his hand as Faramir scooped up another load of broth "No more, I've had my fill"

The steward released the spoon, then stood up and walked over to the fire side, placing the bowl on a ledge in the stone work. "There's still half left, this way it will stay warm until you want more"

"Thank you Faramir"

"It is the least I could do; you are a friend of Aragorn and his kin, one of the Nine Walkers and you outrank me, being a Prince to my humble Stewardship." The man bowed his head, missing Legolas's forced smile.

"My father has banished me from his lands, I am Prince to none bar a precious few Silvan and Sindar who never cared that I had a title anyway." He watched Faramir frown, his eyes darkening in old bitterness. "Yes Faramir, I am no better off than you regarding a Sire's affection"

"Is that why...you... umm...?" The steward's question trailed off in embarrassment.

"Ended up here in this condition?" Finished Legolas "Yes... I've been wandering the open wilds with little food, I'm a wood-elf by birth and life, I have no experience of finding food on bare moorland."

"But there are other elven havens on the route aren't there? Couldn't the people there have given you food?"

"You mean Lothlorien don't you, the Golden Wood. It's slipping toward abandonment Faramir, very few elves are left outside my home."

Faramir sat on the bed end, suddenly looking distraught "All my life I've been scared of Elves, now as I get over it and want to learn... they are all gone, and their language is dying."

"_Iston_..." Legolas reached forward and touched the man's knee, then spoke with curiosity "_Nin henial_?"

Faramir shook his head in confusion "I know the sounds, but not what you say" he was surprised to see Legolas smile

"Then you understand the language of the elves. It is not dead to mortal ears yet."

* * *

**Translations **

**Sindarin**

**_Mado = _Eat**

**___Anno han enni_= Give it to me**

**_Han aníron_= I want it**

**_Gweston= _I promise**

**_Iston_= I know**

**_Nin henial= _Do you understand me**

**Adûnaic**

**_Urîk= Orcs_**

**_Ki-bitha Adûnâyê = _You speak Adûnaic**

**_Ni-bitha Adûnâyê = _I speak Adûnaic**

**Reviews please**


	11. Siniath

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Zammy_, _Midnight Marquis _and _Faerthurin._ Glad you're all enjoying it. Sorry for not updating sooner, school is chaotic**

**I am also reinstating the "no alert/favorite without a review" rule. Just warning you, if you want to Alert or favorite, review and tell me why**

* * *

Éowyn glanced at her companion but swallowed her comment when she saw the lady's face "Arwen?"

The Queen of Gondor shook her head "It's nothing" involuntarily she quickened her pace, making Éowyn trot to keep up

"Liar" Rohirric women had always been straight talkers and Éowyn wasn't going to stop just because she was the Steward's wife "You just went whiter than Shadowfax's coat, what's wrong?"

Arwen made a slashing motion with her hand "I told you; Nothing." Sensing another probing about to strike she broke into an Elven run, easily outdistancing Éowyn before the other realised what had happened.

* * *

Even when there was no hope of pursuit Arwen kept on until she rounded the ash grove toward the far side of the garden. Beyond it lay what Godorians called a Folly Templebut Elves knew as a Haven_._ A building with a balustrade running round the edge and six pillars holding up the roof, nothing else separating it from nature. There had been several at Rivendell and this recently built wooden one seemed to be a miracle from Aragorn, allowing peace and quiet for her father to work when he tired of having his nose stuck in a book in the Library. But he wasn't working now, as Arwen gained her breath she saw him standing at the balustrade watching something, then turn and come striding down the three steps to where she stood shaking slightly.

"Undomiel..." he paused, obviously seeking a way to avoid a sensitive subject "_Iell nin, ci mae_?"

"Why should I not be?" she walked past him and up into the covered 'room'.

Elrond spoke in Sindarin, not wanting to be understood save by his daughter "I saw you run from Éowyn, was she upsetting you?"

"No Father, merely too concerned for my welfare" Arwen had turned her back so she was in the same position that he had vacated moments before.

"No-one is ever too concerned Arwen... you are her Queen and her friend, you helped Éowyn when she was at her lowest point." By now both he and Aragorn had been filled in on the events surrounding Éowyn's flight from the dinner table previously. "Surely it is right for her to be concerned if you are not yourself."_And you are not_ he finished in his head.

Arwen hung her head and felt her father take her hands, remove them from the wooden rail. She staggered across the floor, sinking onto the Elven long-chair that was by the opposite side. When she opened her eyes he was crouched on the floor in front of her, his eyes just lower than hers, cradling her hands. Almost exactly as he had been when she started to become a mortal.

She sighed "Father... I am not truly well, but not ill either. How I am, cannot easily be explained"

"You forget that I am a healer and a lore elf, I understand things that others would not" He watched her shake her head

"No father, you would not understand or aid me in this, it is something for women."

Elrond stood at the rail long after she'd left, a frown on his face as Arwen's last words played in his mind.

_It is something for women... something for women... something for __**women**_"

The glimmerings of an idea began to nag.

* * *

The three of them dined by themselves that night, Faramir and Éowyn having discovered a last minute previous engagement that prevented them attending. Personally Elrond didn't believe them one bit, Arwen had had too much of a glint in her eye when the Steward had made his excuses and apologies. But he kept the thought to himself and his interest on the food rather than his daughter.

Aragorn, however, was being more observant

"_Ci mae meleth nin_?_"_He enquired, looking sideways at Arwen "You haven't touched your wine."

"I just didn't fancy it" Arwen's voice was gentle as, purely by coincidence she took another sip from the goblet of water next to her arm. Aragorn reached out and picked up the abandoned cup

"May I?" he half lifted an enquiring eyebrow, Arwen nodded her permission. Smiling, Aragorn lifted the Goblet in a toast "To my Evenstar, long may her light glow." As Arwen blushed he took a long draught of the wine. "Nothing wrong with that drink."

"I never said there was, only that I didn't fancy it"

Elrond had nearly abandoned his food while he listened to their banter, his flighty idea from the afternoon becoming more and more solid. Even so he was surprised when Arwen tapped her knife on her plate, causing a most indecorous clatter, to gain attention. He looked over at her, as did Aragorn, and noted the delightful smile creeping over her face.

"I have something to tell you both..." she left the sentence hanging and flicked both her husband and father a sparkling look "I am going to have a child."

There was a fit of violent coughing from her left, Aragorn had made the mistake of taking a sip of wine while he waited. Her father looked as stunned and pleased as she'd ever seen him, a smile slowly appearing.

"Arwen..." Aragorn finally managed to rasp out his surprise, then abandoned all protocol and pulled her, one armed, into a deep kiss.

Elrond ignored the display going on right in front of him; he'd given up attempting to chaperone Arwen when Aragorn returned with the hobbits... Besides, they were married now, and Aragorn's reaction was far more reasonable than his had been. He'd never live down that morning: Celebrian had rolled over and quite calmly told him that she was going to have the Twins, he'd startled so badly he ended up nearly falling out of the bed, much to her, then later Glorfindel's and Erestor's, amusement. As Arwen was released he stood up and walked around to the other side of the table, enveloping her in a hug.

"May the Valar bless you, _iel nin__" _he whispered "You and the child."

How long had it been since he'd last watched Galadriel say the same words to Celebrian? That didn't matter now_... _

"_Adar?" _The question was soft, he sensed what was coming and released her. She smiled warmly and slipped an arm around Aragorn, he returning the gesture of love. Elrond smiled "_Elio gen Bân_" more ritual words, but with a greater force than pure duty behind them.

He sat in the chamber for a while after Aragorn and Arwen had gone to bed, thinking and letting his mind go where it would. It led him to memories yet again.

* * *

_He turned away from her, trying to be harsh. "That future is almost gone"_

_Arwen's voice was soft, little more than breathing "But it is not lost..."_

* * *

The rest of that memory was unrelated and had no relevance to now. What did was the fact that the supposedly 'Gone' future was coming true, and Arwen had proven him incorrect once more. It seemed quite likely that if most of the Rivendell Elves hadn't left on the ship meant for Arwen he would be teased endlessly about this. A sharp flashing in the corner of his vision attracted his wandering, he stood up and moved over to the window. There, high above, Gil-Estel; the star of high hope, glinted.

Elrond placed a hand on his heart, bowing slightly in the manner of respectful greeting "_Guren linna cened len, Adar_"

For a second he thought he saw the light of the star change, but then it became firm and normal once more, directing its light to the side, into Aragorn and Arwen's bedroom. With a small smile Elrond took the hint and went to bed himself.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Iell nin, ci mae=_ my daughter, are you well?**

**_Ci mae meleth nin= _Are you well my love?**

**_Elio gen Bân= _May Vana bless you (I do mean _Vana_ not Varda)**

**_Guren linna cened len, Adar= _My heart sings to see you Father.**

**If you're wondering what a haven is, watch Arwen returning to Rivendell after her vision, its what Elrond is working in (the name is mine). This chapter's title means "_news_" or "_tidings_"**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, reviews please**


	12. Nightmares and Questions without answers

**I apologise for the long wait for this chapter, RL got in the way. Thank you to _Kaiseen Greenleaf ,Faerthurin_ and anonomous_ lotr _for reviewing.**

**I may be taking a few liberties with offstage character reaction in this chapter but bare with me. **

_

* * *

_

Nin gwerianneg

_Eithad_

___Neithan_

_Gen fuion_

_Nin gwerianneg... Gwarth!_

Elrond jerked bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving as his lungs gulped for air. His eyes were wide and staring at something only he could see. Gradually the elf lord relaxed, sinking back onto his elbows and leaning against the pillows

"It was just a dream. Just a dream, nothing more." He rubbed the fingers of one hand over his eyes in exhaustion then let his hand drop onto the rumpled covers "Díheno nin Haldir... I truly didn't know what I'd let you in for".

Just as he began to sink back into sleep a screech tore through the air...

* * *

Aragorn felt his arms yank, pulling him into an awkward sitting position. He kept his eyes pointing in the same direction as they had when he'd fallen asleep and saw Arwen sitting bolt upright, his arms were still round her but unnoticed; her eyes were staring at the wall opposite their bed, clear with the strength of a nightmare

"Arwen..." He gripped tighter and gave her a gentle shake "Arwen_,_ _echuio_!_" _

She jerked slightly then relaxed, her eyes starting to fill with tears "Estel..."

Aragorn pulled her close "Hush _meleth nin_... _Man egennig__?"_

Before she could answer the door edged open and Elrond hurried in, looking as though he had slept roughly and woken harshly. He took one look at his daughter and his eyes went cold.

"Let me guess..." he paused in mock thought "_Naneth_?"

Arwen nodded "She called me dark names..." she paused to gather courage and switched her speech to Quenya so Aragorn wouldn't understand "Blood traitor, Infatuated maiden, mortal lover were some of them."

Elrond's face seemed to freeze, but in deference to his companions he held his tongue, restraining the curses that longed to flood from his mouth.

_1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10...11...12_

Once he was certain he would keep his temper he spoke, using the common tongue "She spoke to me too, and her words were not kind."

Aragorn was frowning "Why would Celebrian wish you ill?"

Elrond dropped his gaze, sadness and exhaustion filling his voice "I made a foolish promise, I said she would see the whole family together again when the Elves finally departed. She is angry at me for breaking my word... and because she sees no beauty left in Arda, nor any reason for _Elleth_ to love _Firion_ she cannot comprehend Arwen's choice of mortality..." his voice became bitter "No doubt she hates me for the gift I gave our children, for though all three are ¾ elf by blood, each has the chance to pick their fate..." his voice grew quiet "as my parents, then later Elros and I, did before them." He looked up and met Aragorn's eyes "That is why." Then he sighed and glanced at Arwen _"__Oltho vae, iel nin_."

Aragorn watched the elf-lord, who suddenly seemed old and beaten, leave their room before looking at his wife, who was already drifting off. He pressed a kiss to her brow "Sleep soundly, my Luthien."

* * *

Back in his own room Elrond paced like a cadged beast, muttering every foul curse he knew. But it was more than lack of sleep and fear for his daughter that had angered him. It was the mixture of icy shock and betrayal that had settled in his heart.

_Celebrian acted to hurt me and scare Arwen... just because she is a pure elf she shouldn't expect her children to follow my path, the choice is **their own** to make._

He twisted awkwardly on the spot, landing half-on, half-off his bed, the rolled over so he stared at the canopy above. Doubts and questions coursed through his brain

"_Nin melanneg_ Celebrian?" Tears began to brim in his eyes "And if you had doubts why didn't you wait a century or two to make up your mind? There were many pure elves who wished for your hand in marriage, you could have given your heart to any one of those... yet you chose me. You knew I was a Peredhel, I warned you that any children of ours would be given the same choice as I had." With tears rolling freely he watched the embroidery blur "Was that what attracted you to me, the difference, the challenge?"

Somehow his befuddled brain sensed a grain of truth within that last sentence... with betrayal wrenching his heart Elrond buried his head in the pillow, sobbing until he fell into a wretched sleep.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Nin gwerianneg =_you betrayed me**

**_Eithad = _An insult**

**_Neithan= _Wronged**

**_Gen fuion =_ you disgust me**

**_Nin gwerianneg... Gwarth! = _You broke your word... Traitor**

**_echuio=_ Wake up**

**_Man egennig= _What did you see**

**_Elleth_ = Elf woman**

**_Firion _= Mortal man**

**_Oltho vae, iel nin =_Sweet dreams my daughter**

**_Nin melanneg_= Did you love me?**

**If you're interested Arwen was actually 78.125% elf, but I went for simple fractions. _Review please..._**


	13. A longlost document

**Thank you to _MRS. GLORFINDEL_, _Midnight Marquis_, _Zammy_ and _Kaisaan Greenleaf _for reviewing.**

**You all get a second chapter this week as an apology for being so long updating last time. Enjoy **

* * *

Arwen's news didn't take long to become the base of all Gondor's well-wishes. The kingdom apparently held great delight in the idea of an heir to their newly restored royal throne, if the cheers and yells of congratulations when Aragorn officially announced it were anything to go by. Elrond had to admire his daughter's tact though, she had collared the poor man at breakfast and demanded he put off the ceremony until noon in order that she could privately inform Éowyn of the news face to face rather than it reach her ears by other means. He had watched from afar, seen Éowyn's gratitude mixed with delight for her friend and Queen.

_Quite where she got that tact from I'm not sure: certainly not Galadriel or Celeborn_ he sat on the chair in the Haven musing while the sun shone on the white stone. _Perhaps it came laterally, from Elros. He always soothed and got round people, knew what to say at the right times... __Hanar vuin_.

Elrond shook himself out of reminisces and looked down at the scribbled piece of paper in his hand. Going on logic, what useful material could be found in the back corners of the Citadel library and the few things Arwen's sense for her child had revealed he'd made a calculation of how long she would carry the babe. It equalled out at 10 ½ months, though that was educated guessing at best, simply half-way between the terms of mortal and Elf. He could ask no-one for help... even if he had been able to speak to Luthien; she'd turned to a mortal woman by the time of Dior's birth, while his own mother was safe in Valinor.

He shook his head as one of Gil-galad's favourite sayings came back to him; _Trust first your instinct, then after it your _wits_. _He knew it was true, that even the wisest could be tricked, but acting on his first thoughts had come in handy a few times. Since both instinct and wits pointed to the same answer for this puzzle, he would leave it at that...

"Lord Elrond?"

He turned his head to see Bergil standing at the bottom of the steps

"Yes Bergil"

The boy smiled, obviously pleased to be remembered by name by an Elven lord "Steward Faramir has found an old scroll tucked away, with other old papers which he was looking for, in the back of the library. He wishes to have your help with it."

Elrond nodded and stood up "Lead on"

* * *

They discovered Faramir in the dustiest, most forgotten corner of the library, the desk in front of him strewn with many papers. All his attention however was directed to a thick roll of parchment which he had partially unfurled to show the top lines

"My lord Steward." Bergil spoke softly and Faramir looked up, relief creasing his face

"Elrond... Thank goodness. I cannot comprehend a word of this, not only is it written in Elvish but they used the confounded script as well. It more resembles a sewing sample from court than writing."

The elf smiled and held out his hand "Tengwar is elaborate, I'll give it that..." he stared at the paper, frowning "Faramir, you would be able to read the first line in normal letters, it alone is written in Adûnaic."

"What does it say?" The steward was listening intently now.

Elrond fetched a stool and sat down next to the man, before reading aloud from the parchment "_For the good of moral and mental enrichment of this people regarding wrongful treatment of enemies I inscribe this story to last for all of the years that this kingdom, and Arda, have yet to see._ Underneath is written _I Narn Eluréd adh Elurín_, The tale of Eluréd and Elurín"

"No clue as to who wrote it then?" Faramir frowned as Elrond continued to stare at the parchment

"I don't need clues... I know this hand as well as my own..." Elrond looked up, Faramir noticed a light suddenly gleaming in his eyes "Faramir, may I take this?"

The Steward smiled invitingly "Be my guest, it's no use to me."

"Thank you" Elrond returned the smile slightly and stood up "I take it this was what you needed me for?"

"Yes, just that." The smile widened to a grin and Faramir made shooing motions with his hands, waving the quill around "Go, go! I know you want to read it properly."

"I now know why Aragorn chose you for steward Faramir... you are intuitive and insightful to a depth I have not seen in many others, elf or mortal."

* * *

Elrond sat on his bed, the roll in his hands. He'd reached the end of the tale that Maedhros had told himself and Elros, which had been written almost verbatim, and found another line of Adûnaic: _From here on the tale is nothing but my beliefs, based on the tales of the Nandor_. As he read on Elrond smiled, he'd never have thought it possible for such flights of fancy from such a person. Deer speaking Elvish indeed... though the suggestion of the boys learning animal tongues wasn't so silly, if you talk to trees then why not forest creatures.

Finally at the bottom he found the 'clue' that Faramir had wanted. A sketch showing the Star of Numenor, underneath was a scribbled shape followed by a five drop spray of water. To the uninitiated it seemed nothing but vandalism or a bored author's quill-wanderings, but to Elrond it meant everything.

"I would never have believed this if you'd told me Gwanunig ninbut the evidence is irrefutable." He smiled gently at memories "And to think, you were always happier with a sword in your hand, while I was the one with an ear for tales and my nose in books. Yet it was _you_ who ruled Numenor for 410 years, I became Gil-galad's second in command and fought in the Last Alliance. How strangely life can twist fates around..."

The clattering of dishes in the central room alerted him that something far more believable than a certain someone's literary endeavour, namely dinner, had arrived.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Hanar vuin =_ Beloved brother**

**So... who do you think wrote down the story? You'll have to wait and see**

**Reviews please**


	14. Well, who wrote it?

**So sorry for the very long wait, blame RL. Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _Midnight Marquis_ for reviews. **

* * *

Faramir and Éowyn were dining with them that night. As they settled into the first course Elrond began a slow mental count, he'd reached 6 before Faramir finally spoke

"Did you find out who'd written it Elrond?" It was blurted out in the middle of quiet, releasing a barrage of questions from the other three, who all spoke at once

"Who'd written what?"

"What are you talking about Faramir?"

"Adar?"

By then Elrond had finished his mouthful and was able to speak "Faramir found an old document tucked away in the back of the library..."

"With those tax rolls you asked me to find." Interjected the Steward. Aragorn nodded

Elrond continued "It was written in Sindarin, but with a prologue and break-note of Adûnaic, that's the tongue of Numenor" he added for Éowyn's benefit "The story was The tale of Eluréd and Elurín, written in two sections. The first part was absolutely identical to the tale that Maedhros told us, my brother and me, when we were young. The second was rather more fanciful..."

"Get to the point Elrond, did you find any clue as to who wrote it?" Faramir snapped

The elf lord smiled, enjoying himself "I told you Faramir, I didn't need clues... However I did find one, and it made my theory rock solid." He passed over a piece of paper on which he'd copied the only identification, that drawing.

Faramir stared at it for a long moment before pushing it back "Doesn't make any sense to me. Except for the Star of Numenor I don't recognise a thing"

"It wouldn't mean anything to you even if you could read the Tengwar. But it means a lot to me..."

Aragorn recalled his foster father to the discussion before he could get wrapped in memories "Who wrote down the tale?"

"Elros" Just one gentle word to release a torrent.

Faramir felt his jaw drop but still sat there, gaping "Elros? You mean Elros Tar-Minyatur, the first King of Numenor?"

Elrond nodded

"Valar above" Faramir breathed, then frowned again "But you said you knew the writing as well as your own, Gil-galad's lieutenant you may have been but it would take an awful lot of correspondence to know writing so distinctly, particularly in that script."

Elrond smiled sadly "Would you still recognise Boromir's writing if it was handed to you at the distant end of your life?"

Faramir nodded, a few quick glances indicating that Éowyn alone had no clue where this was going "Of course."

"It has been over 6000 years since I last saw that hand, Elves have long memories for kin looks, yet even lost brothers may fade... But Elros was not merely my brother, he was my twin..." Elrond bowed his head, fighting to hide the tears in his eyes and hold his voice steady.

Arwen placed her hand on her father's under the table, whispering so only elven ears could hear "_No beren, Adar. Me a chen_." For once she was grateful neither Faramir or Éowyn spoke Sindarin, it meant she and Aragorn could comfort her father without their guests knowing.

Elrond felt his daughter's hand and gripped it tightly. Then he looked up.

Faramir was gazing at him, clearly awe struck, but there was a mixture of respect and sympathy in those eyes as well. Éowyn... he couldn't tell what she thought, emotions were non-existent in her eyes at this moment.

Classic solider, not showing feelings about what has been said, the thought made him smile inside.

Shame filled Aragorn's voice as he spoke, using full Westron so the others understood "Forgive me, I didn't mean to recall you to painful memories, we were just curious."

"Forgiven" the elf lord held both King and Steward with his gaze as he spoke, splitting his meaning between them.

Éowyn nodded toward the embroidery on Arwen's dress "What is that? I never thought trees were shedding leaves in spring."

Arwen smiled "_Mellyrn_ do, their leaves are also golden for most of their season"

"_Mellirn?_" Eowyn frowned over the unfamiliar word.

Aragorn rescued her "You would know them as Mallorns, the Golden Trees of Lothlorien."

If it was physically possible Faramir's eyes went even wider, he'd obviously heard of the place "Lothlorien... the home of the Sor— Lady of the Wood" The Steward's quick change of word choice was allowed to pass unchallenged, the fact he'd changed it meant he was learning quickly.

Aragorn gave him a brief smile and a nod, then gave Elrond a swift, searching glance before returning to his meal.

The elf lord sat quietly while the others ate, his appetite all but gone. He knew that the nagging hadn't been meant to hurt him, they had simply been curious. But the place in his heart which had been occupied by Elros, during his life, still hurt at any reminder of what was lost. As soon as decency permitted he excused himself, wanting only to be alone.

* * *

**Translations**

**_No beren, Adar. Me a chen_= Be brave father, we are here with you**

**_Mellirn_ is the phonetic spelling of Mellyrn **


	15. Escape from overbearance

**Firstly, grovelling apologies for the length of time this has taken to be posted. Thank you so much _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Midnight Marquis_, _Luthien Surion-my elvish name_, _Goldenfightergirl_ for reviewing.**

**Recap; Elrond found a story which was written by Elros and there has been a hidden outpour of emotion from Elrond. This chapter is the aftermath **

* * *

That in itself proved to be quite difficult; there were servants, late working guild heads, and of course the guards... they were the worst, persisting in following him everywhere. Everywhere, even to the stables; which had been dark, quiet and a safe haven. Elrond resisted the urge to roll his eyes or indulge in not-so-quiet curses, as three guards fenced off the open end of Suldal's stall. Then he had a better idea...

Placing his head close to the mare's ear he whispered "_Dan-gwedho ech a noro na thin__ mellon nin_", then vaulted over the wooden partition into the next stall. Before the guards could truly register what happened Suldal pulled back and spun in a half rear, then charged out of the stall at full gallop, knocking them flat.

While the three men were still gathering their wits Elrond slipped out of the stall and raced away on silent feet, grateful once again for his elven gifts.

* * *

When he stopped running it was to find himself in a large walled garden. A brief flash of confusion shot through his brain before he remembered, this was the garden which had been Legolas and Gandalf's present to Aragorn and Arwen, a garden planted in Elven fashion, with enough spells on it to prevent anyone outside the walls knowing you were there

_I'll be safe here, safe..._

The crack of a twig broke his thoughts, he whirled round, only to see Suldal step out from the bushes. She kept walking until she was close enough for him to put his arms around her neck. But she didn't stop, making him stumble backwards for a distance. Then he tripped and sank awkwardly down onto a flat stone that he identified as the edge of the fountain. Suldal lowered her head onto his lap and he clung tight, burying his head in her mane.

"_Hantanyel orenyo ni-rehtienna, melda roccoya_" Elrond knew he was crying, but didn't care. It was all too much; unearthed memories of Elros… constantly being guarded, so firmly it felt like house arrest.

_Valar's sake, even Maedhros gave me more freedom than this_.

Suldal nudged him in concern, he gently stroked her, nimble fingers weaving the chestnut mane into a braid "_C'ui-hador enni_"

It was a cloudy night, the garden lay in almost total darkness. Elrond sat poker stiff on the fountainside. He did not need sleep tonight, infact he'd been sleeping far too much. Tonight he would hold vigil until the sun rose, tonight he would remember. For tonight was the night that Elros had died…

* * *

**Translations**

** _Dan-gwedho ech a noro na thin mellon nin_= Break your rope and charge them, my friend**

**_Hantanyel orenyo ni-rehtienna, melda roccoya_= I thank you from my heart for rescuing me, my beloved horse**

**_C'ui-hador enni_= You are forever loyal to me**

**I get the idea that if Elrond was particularly emotionally in turmoil he would switch back to Quenya as it was probably the language he spoke with Meadhros and Maglor**

**Reviews... please**


	16. One winter night

**Apologies once again. Bother RL**

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf _and _Midnight Marquis_ for reviewing**

**Note: This chapter is set in winter time (just for context)**

* * *

"Umph" Aragorn rolled over after being rudely awakened, to find Arwen snuggling next to him. He smiled softly, speaking Sindarin "You do have your own room now, my love. Why do you bother me in the middle of the night?"

"I'm cold" she wriggled closer

"Yes" muttered Aragorn through gritted teeth as her feet rested against his leg "You are" He twisted to lie on his side, wrapping his arms around her with a wry smile "And I suppose I am to be your hot water skin?"

She smiled back "I hoped so."

He pulled her close, feeling her stomach lie flat against his. He ran a hand across it " You're not showing at all and there's…" he considered "3 and half months to go"

"It will be the mixture of our two bloods Estel, I am predominantly elven, while you are mortal. Therefore my body will act differently according to both."

He kissed her "Don't bamboozle me, I can tell Elrond told you all that. The question is, where did he learn it?"

Arwen snuggled into the pillows "Too much thinking required to work that out. Ask him tomorrow" She shifted so her head lay on his chest and shut her eyes.

"Sleep well, my little elf."

* * *

**A bit of Aragorn/Arwen fluff for you**

**Reviews please**

**N.B. The next chapter is not written yet so prepare for a long wait **


	17. Under the stars

**Thank you to _Midnight Marquis _and _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ for reviewing and being patient for this chapter to come out.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

"Asfaloth, Suldal." Elrond called the horses' names, smiling as two eager heads stuck themselves into the air. "_Tolo a nin mellyn nin_" . Obedient as ever the horses backed themselves out of the stalls and trotted up the aisle to meet him. Turning on his heel he led them out through the Citadel to one of the edge gardens; where Aragorn and Arwen, her stomach finally showing signs of the nearly finished pregnancy, lay on their backs on the grass, watching the stars. As he dropped down on Aragorn's other side the horses began to graze, careful not to block the view.

Elrond gazed up into the sky, his eye settling on the bright sword belt of Menelvagor, with his faithful dog Helluin trotting along behind. His mind flashed back to the old tales of Beren and Lúthien he had been told. For although those stars would foretell the final battle of Arda as they knew it, the Peredhel had always associated them with Beren and Huorn, those two great heroes of their kinds.

* * *

"I think I will go to bed" Arwen rolled over onto her side and Suldal came forward, allowing her master's daughter to lean on her to stand up and then escorting her back towards the city. Aragorn watched her go then twisted over to look at Elrond

"I don't believe it, did you train her to do that?"

Elrond shook his head with a laugh "I never taught Suldal to do anything save carry a person on her back. Unfortunately she is too clever for her own, or anyone else's good." He reverted his gaze to the sky only to be disturbed by Aragorn's yelp.

His foster son had sat bolt upright, staring accusingly at Asfaloth and rubbing his arm "He bit me!"

"Asfaloth!" Elrond glared at the horse, rolling over onto his front "Baw". The grey ignored him and tugged Aragorn's sleeve harder, snorting and stamping. Then he let go and tossed his head so sharply it went vertical, still snorting. The elf lord began to realise this was not normal teasing behaviour from the horse, he frowned with worry "_Man ha Asfaloth_?"

The stallion jerked his head again, indicating the city.

Elrond stood up sharply, looking the horse in the eye_ "__Arwen harnannen_?_"_

Asfaloth dropped his head in what was unmistakably a nod. Elrond began to run back to the citadel, aware of Aragon matching his pace with a speed only worry could give.

* * *

Aragorn stopped in front of Arwen's decidedly shut door. Elrond gazed over his shoulder, worry tightening his chest "We're not allowed in there, not even me, silly mortal tradition." He shut up sharply, aware that he might have overstepped a line; Aragorn had always been proud of being a man among elves, and an elf-raised around men. But the King of Gondor nodded his head in resigned agreement and collapsed onto a waiting chair. Elrond shook his head at the offer of the twin nearby and turned away, his practical mind attempting to overrule his emotional.

"I've got some work that needs finishing, I might as well bring it down here and spent the time doing something constructive."

* * *

Hours later Elrond realised he was still staring at one line of writing on the scroll. His brain was only thinking about one thing… Arwen. Glancing sideways he saw that Aragorn was being even more obvious in his intentions, simply staring at the door behind which his wife lay.

"She will be well Aragorn." He hid the nerves in his voice "The healers here are the best I have ever met, particularly Ioreth."

Aragorn inclined his head with a smile "Dear Ioreth, she was the one who knew what I needed when I came during the war. That is why I trusted her with Arwen."

Elrond nodded "I though as mu…" He leapt to his feet as a new cry rang through the air, the cry of a baby.

The chamber door opened to reveal Ioreth smiling broadly "You may go in now My Lords, but do not tire her…"

As she stood aside it took much of Elrond's self-control to allow Aragorn to enter first, only the half memory of how offended he'd been when Galadriel was shown Arwen before him prevented him striding ahead.

When he did enter the room it was to see Arwen sitting up in bed, smiling as he had not seen her smile since her wedding day, and Aragorn holding a swaddled bundle, which he held out with a proud smile

"Iôn nîn"

* * *

**Translations**

**_Tolo a nin mellyn nîn_= Come to me my friends**

**_Man ha Asfaloth=_ What is it Asfaloth**

**___Arwen harnannen_= Is Arwen hurt?**

**___Iôn nîn_= My son**

**Sorry if Elrond seems a bit brusque at points in this story, I think it's his way of shaking off nerves. Any guesses who Menelvagor and Helluin are (some astonomy needed)**

**Well, what do you think, worth a review?**


	18. When a Child Is Born

**Sorry for the long wait and the shortness of this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Midnight Marquis_, _FireChildSlytherin5_ and _Kamai6_ for reviewing**

**Especially big thank you to the Forums of _Merin Essi ar Quenteli _for the translations in this chapter, though they do a fantastic job on every single one**

* * *

Elrond smiled as he took the boy gently _"Man i eneth dîn?"_

Aragorn glanced at Arwen before replying "_Ci dhammen de chiled_"

Elrond looked down at his grandson, seeking inspiration. Shifting the child into the crook of one arm he ran a finger along the small ears. They intrigued him, for instead of the roundness so common in mortals, they had a distinctly elvish point at the top…

He walked over to the window, bathing the boy in Eärendil's light "_L' __Eldarion __eston__,__ A g'i iôn edhel_"

"Eldarion Ambarahyo Telecontar"Arwen's quiet voice provided the full name.

Elrond turned back and smiled in amusement at the _amilessë_ "Fate-changer? It is apt I suppose." He handed Eldarion back to her, smiling at the wonderful picture they made. "Sleep now… my children".

Minutes later he returned carrying his harp to find all three still waiting. He smiled "I will sing to you"

As the first notes of music came, Arwen saw the baby settle in its cradle and felt her own eyelids droop from exhaustion. Thus it was only Eärendil and the stones of Gondor that heard Elrond's lullaby.

"_Min Menel band thilia Estel_  
_Êl 'lân nartha or i ndýr fîr_  
_aur gîr an ndýr nedh-ephel_  
_I naid hin telithar sír_  
_ir onnen chên_

_Ind dhínen renia i aear annui__  
__I suil prestad glirir min gelaidh__  
__Ar idh raim tress dannar lithui__  
__Dannathar lim min oer sîdh__  
__ir onnen chên_

_Gîl sílar ar Estel mi nguir bain__  
__Min lû hin i ardh dortha mi hîdh__  
__Ar úben mista nuin fain 'lain__  
__Telithar sui 'alu min oer sîdh__  
__ir onnen chên__"_

* * *

Translations

_Man i eneth dîn_=What is his name?

_Ci dhammen de chiled_=You are permitted to choose it

_L' __Eldarion __eston__,__ A g'i iôn edhel_= I name you Eldarion, You are the son of an elf

_Min Menel band thilia Estel_  
_Êl 'lân nartha or i ndýr fîr_  
_aur gîr an ndýr nedh-ephel_  
_I naid hin telithar sír_  
_ir onnen chên_

_Ind dhínen renia i aear annui__  
__I suil prestad glirir min gelaidh__  
__Ar idh raim tress dannar lithui__  
__Dannathar lim min oer sîdh__  
__ir onnen chên_

_Gîl sílar ar Estel mi nguir bain__  
__Min lû hin i ardh dortha mi hîdh__  
__Ar úben mista nuin fain 'lain__  
__Telithar sui 'alu min oer sîdh__  
__ir onnen chên_

In the wide sky glistens hope  
A bright star kindles over mortal lands  
A new day for the country within the girdle of the world  
These things will come today  
When born a child

A silent wish sails the western sea  
The winds of change sings in the trees  
And the walls of doubt fall dusty  
They will fall swiftly in the days of peace  
When born a child

A star shines with hope in all hearts  
In this hour the world dwells in peace  
And no one is lost underneath the white clouds  
They will come like blessings in the days of peace  
When born a child

**My adaptation of _"When a Child Is Born"_ brilliantly translated by Naruvir and Dreamingfifi. Three cheers for them.**

**Reviews**


	19. Lore Elf

**Sorry this is so late. Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Midnight Marquis_, _Greenscarfgirl, Kamai6 _and _FireChildSlytherin5_ for reviews.**

* * *

"Are we going or not?"

Legolas pretended to struggle with a buckle "_Hen ab-gerin_"

Elrond walked forward and did it for him "_Aníron gwaed_"

The Sindar sighed and swung into Arod's saddle "_Telin_"

"_Na vedui_" with a sigh Elrond vaulted into Suldal's saddle, leaning down to give Arwen a last kiss and Eldarion a final touch on the cheek "_Guren níniatha n'i lû ir in ad-genithanc"_.

"_Galo Anor erin râd gîn Adar" _she whispered back.

* * *

Only once they were well away from Minas Tirith did Legolas dare speak again, still using Sindarin

"I don't want to go to Eryn Lasgalen." He regretted it when Elrond turned a cold eye on him

"You think I want to leave my foster-son, daughter and week old grandson?" The Elf-lord's voice was clipped

Chastised, Legolas shook his head "No"

"Forgive me Legolas" his companion's voice gentled "I am not fit company. I worry…"

Legolas smiled "I though Elf lords didn't dote on mortals, for fear of losing them."

Elrond shook his head ruefully "This one does, if it's his daughter's son and the heir to Gondor and Arnor"

"And which bit is more important?" Legolas grinned properly now, enjoying baiting Elrond

The half elf tossed his head "_Nan aear ar in elin..._I don't know" He subtly shortened his reins and spoke to Suldal "_Nura"_

She sprang into a gallop, easily out distancing Arod. His prank done Elrond reined her in after a short way and waited for the other pair to catch up

"You taught her in Quenya too?" Spluttered the incredulous Legolas

Elrond shrugged "I speak both fluently, it made sense that my horses should understand either. If I were in Valinor it would be awkward to switch just so I could control my horse, besides most of the horses there do not understand Sindarin."

Legolas shook his head, obviously nonplussed "As you say."

* * *

They rode until dark. Once the fire was lit and dinner, courtesy of Gondor's kitchens, eaten, Legolas ventured to ask a question that had plagued him all day

"Which way will we go?"

Elrond turned his head to the ellon, unconcerned "Up the east bank of the Anduin, and along the old Forest Road. If we're not accosted by a scout party by then we'll ride up to Eregost and then around in a loop to the Halls."

"Nowhere near Imladris?"

Elrond shook his head "Not on the way there. Once the mess is sorted out I might take Caradas Path and go there, though Glorfindel will strangle me for not appearing earlier." He shook his head fondly as Legolas laughed "Why_ I_ got burdened with the troublesome half Vanya when he returned rather than Círdan I don't know"

Legolas sat up "Glorfindel's half Vanya?"

Elrond nodded, absentmindedly tugging at his leggings "Yes, it's where he got his golden hair from. His mother was Noldor though so he was entitled to leave when Fëanor marched. No full Vanya ever had the wish to leave Valinor. They behaved as a rule." He paused and considered "The Noldor blood is probably also the reason he was returned to us on Arda, when he was re-embodied they were still banned from Valinor." He smiled as Legolas' jaw dropped "That is what you get when you ask a seemingly innocuous question of a lore-elf"

The blond elf frowned "I'll remember that in future" he shook himself "I'll take first watch."

Elrond watched the younger elf scale a tree and lay down on his bed roll, sincerely wishing they could turn around and go back to Minas Tirith… or deviate to Imladris… or head anywhere that would not involve Thranduil Oropherion.

* * *

Just under a month later they reached Eregost. Elrond was grateful to rest in a bed for once, though the crowded common room of the inn suited neither elf.

"Why are you doing this Elrond?" Legolas stretched back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling

"Believe me, I'd rather not be." He methodically polished the blade of his sword and then sheathed it again out of long habit. A clack indicated that Legolas had dropped his chair onto all four legs again

"Then _why_?"

Elrond sighed and set down his harp mid-tweaking, turning his head to look at the younger elf "It pains me to see a son at odds with his father… parents are precious Legolas, don't ever forget that."

He picked up the harp and carried on, only to be interrupted by a tentative question "Do you remember your father my lord?"

Elrond shook his head "No." He fought the choked feeling in his throat "I was too young when he sailed that final time… Even my mother; just a vague figure glowing on the end of the dock as Maedhros ran forward." He gave a bitter laugh, "There is my first memory Legolas, the attack on the Havens of Sirion by the sons of Fëanor, the attack that cost me mother and birth-home." He glanced up, meeting the other elf's shocked eyes

"Forgive me" Legolas breathed, shock on his face "I did not know."

"There was no reason why you should, it is never spoken of." Elrond twitched involuntarily and settleled back into tuning his harp, thereby indicating that the conversation was over.

* * *

They rode on the next day, with both elves trusting memory and instinct to lead down the correct path. Elrond kept a sharp look out, but noticed that Legolas' eyes were getting shiftier and shiftier, never settling on one spot. He reached over to calm the elf…

_Hisssssssssss _

* * *

**I know, cliffhanger... but it's the first one I've done in this story.**

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Hen ab-gerin _= After I finish**

**_Aníron gwaed _= I wish to go**

**_Telin_= I'm coming**

**_Na vedui_ = At last**

**_Guren níniatha n'i lû ir in ad-genithanc _= My heart shall weep until it sees you again**

**_Galo Anor erin râd gîn Adar _= May the sun shine upon your path Father**

**_Nan aear ar in elin= _By the sea and the stars**

**Quenya**

**_Nura_= Run**

**Reviews, please...**


	20. In the halls of the Elven King

**I apologise for the lateness of this update, especially as it is the second half of a cliffhanger. Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Midnight Marquis_ and _FireChildSlytherin5 _for reviewing.**

**Without furthur delay, on to the chapter... **

* * *

Both elves threw themselves flat in their saddles as the arrow wizzed inches from where Legolas' shoulder had been.

"_Baw, __Me vellyn_" Elrond yelled, instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.

Three elves leapt lightly down from their tree perches, arrows nocked and aimed at the pair.

"Who rides in the land of King Thranduil?"

Elrond nudged Suldal forward "I am Elrond Peredhel, Former Lord of Imladris. I ride with your Prince; Legolas Thranduilion. We wish passage to your King's halls, and audience with him.

The head elf bowed "As you will my lord…" then he straightened and smiled "Well met Legolas"

"Rusgon!" A rapid flow of questions and answers followed, which Elrond tuned out as the other pair of elves led them down a side path and deeper into the trees.

"It seems lighter than when I rode here last"

"Lady Galadriel purged Dol Guldur, all the evil that came from there has vanished"

"Never to return Valar willing"

The silvan elf echoed his words in mumbled agreement then placed a hand on Suldal's rein "We have arrived, my lord"

Elrond raised his eyes to study the clearing ahead of him. The ground was bare and made a marked contrast with the dark ivy growing on the stone cliffs at the far end. He swung off Suldal's back and handed her reins to his guide, motioning for Legolas to follow suit.

As they approached the cliffs hidden doors swung open, indicating admittance

"Thank you" To a bystander he would seem to be speaking to thin air, but he knew that there were elves controlling the doors. It seemed only polite to thank them. He smiled, wondering what exactly Thranduil would think…

* * *

Gradually Legolas began to take the lead, and Elrond willingly followed his self-appointed guide through the twisting corridors

"I'm surprised that you live underground like this, it must be hard on you all."

Legolas gave a sharp movement "It is better to be uncomfortable and alive than dead. The forest didn't exactly welcome elves these many years." He grimaced "or rather, the spiders didn't."

Elrond nodded "And therefore the elves of Mirkwood remained alive to become the elves of Eryn Lasgalen."

The large doors swung open to allow them to enter into a large hall, the roof a natural arch stretching far upward from the ground. On a dais at the far end waited Thranduil, the King for whom he had abandoned everything, in order to heal the estrangement. Surprisingly he did not rise when they came close, as tradition demanded, merely shooting Legolas an icy glare

"_Mae l'ovannen_" Elrond placed a hand on his heart but did not bow, playing the king at his own game

"_Oduledh hi am man theled?.. Avon nathlad 'werth min daur nîn"_ Thranduil snapped.

Keeping his temper Elrond replied in the same tongue "Legolas has committed no treason, I come to heal your estrangement."

"He holds court with a Dwarf, and tells him of our forest. I name that treason"

"You carry no love for Dwarves, that I know well Thranduil Oropherion, but Gimli has earned your trust. He fought as one of the Fellowship, and never once wounded Legolas, though he may have had opportunity."

"Fellowship… Don't speak of that Fellowship to me Noldor. It was your plan and persuasion that led my son away from his home… We needed him here, when Sauron attacked from Dol Guldur we needed every elf we could get."

"You survived and succeeded without Legolas. His calling was with Aragorn, to Rohan and the Dimholt Road."

The Elven king did not soften "Yes, and was subjected to the call of the sea in the process. Dismissed."

* * *

"I'm sorry" Legolas hung his head as Elrond surveyed his allocated chambers "You should have better."

The other elf shrugged the apology off "I will be fine Legolas… and I will keep trying to persuade your father. That is assuming he will listen to me"

* * *

"He is a traitor, and not my son!"

"Your temper, Thranduial, will push you into the same over confidence as your father and we both know where his refusal to listen landed him."

Without waiting for a response from the incoherent King, he walked out.

* * *

"Elrond? Where are you going?"

He tightened Suldal's girth and stepped back, then buckled on the saddle bags "Back to Minas Tirith." The elf-lord looked at his questioner "This time it is my turn to beg forgiveness Legolas. Your father pushed me too far, I have a feeling I will no longer be welcome within this realm." Grasping the reins he swung up onto the mare's back and wheeled her around. At the last minute he turned in the saddle "You will be coming back for Eldarion's year day I hope?"

The forlorn elf raised a smile "I wouldn't miss it, even if doing so would win me Father's eternal approval."

Elrond's own smile was tight and tense "Be careful. It is not wise to drive away kin in favor of friends, however sour tempered your family may be"

Legolas touched his heart in farewell "I will remember. May you have a safe journey Lord Elrond"

"And may you stay safe within these trees, or else in Rivendell. It will always be open to those in need." With the parting words he urged Suldal to trot, Rusgorn jogging alongside to lead him back onto the road.

* * *

"Which way is Imladris?"

Rusgorn pointed "That way"

Elrond glanced down at the woodelf "Look after Legolas, I fear for him."

"He will be under my especial watch."

The elf lord simply nodded and with a chirp to Suldal, cantered down the road.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Baw, __Me vellyn= _Don't, we are friends**

**_Mae l'ovannen_= Well met (formal version)**

**_Oduledh hi am man theled?.. Avon nathlad 'werth min daur nîn_= Why are you here?...I do not welcome betrayers in my forest.**

**Reviews please...**


	21. A new name

**Sorry for the delay...Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf _and_ FireChildSlytherin5_ for reviewing.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

"_Mae g'evennin"_ Elrond strode into the great hall to see Aragorn perched high up, and rather precariously, on the King's throne

"_Gwannas lû and"_

He saw Arwen appear around the back of the throne steps, carrying Eldarion in her arms. She sat him on Faramir's empty chair before continuing to speak "You do not bring Legolas, I presume that is a good thing?"

Elrond shook his head, suddenly even more ashamed "I failed. Thranduil pushed me too far and I walked out. Elbereth only knows the bowels of Angband that I've left poor Legolas in because of it." He shut his eyes, suddenly confronted by the enormity and repercussion of what he had done. _Ai_, he was as bad, no worse than Maedhros after the sacking of Doriath, at least the eldest son of Fëanor had tried to seek out Eluréd and Elurín and save them from death… he had simply abandoned Legolas.

"_Tirio_ _Adar_"

He opened his eyes to see Arwen standing up and backing away up onto the dais, leaving Eldarion standing alone on the hall floor.

* * *

Slowly the boy began to toddle forward, wobbling like a new born foal but slowly gaining momentum and confidence

Elrond crouched down and opened his arms_ "Tolo enni, Tolo enni Eldarion"_

Eldarion stopped and smiled "_Ada-nanef_"

As Elrond's mind struggled to comprehend this he was thrown backward by his grandson leaping forward and slamming into his chest, giggling madly.

"_Ada-nanef, Ada-nanef_"

Then it clicked, Eldarion was saying _Adar-Naneth_; Father of Mother.

He smiled up at the beaming boy _"Mae g'ovannen Eldarion"_

Arwen appeared and lifted her son into her arms, allowing him to sit up and then rise to his feet.

Eldarion reached out for him "_Ada-nanef"_

Arwen smiled "Do you want Elrond to carry you?"

"_Ada-nanef"_

She passed him over and Elrond settled the boy on one hip, feeling one arm wrap around his neck and the other hand tug his temple braid. Reaching over he gently disengaged the hair from interested fingers.

"Leave those be, Eldarion. They are not for little boys" Then he looked over at Aragorn and Arwen "This is why I came back…"

"You planned to sail after returning Legolas to his home?" Aragorn's brow furrowed

Elrond shook his head "No, I would never do that… At the Grey Havens; my vision was of Eldarion walking toward me, but Círdan roused me just before he could speak. It was then I knew I couldn't sail, that I still had a life to live here." He looked down at the boy in his arms "A family to enjoy."

Eldarion chuckled and made a renewed attempt to grab the hair, which Elrond thwarted by an equally swift move with his free hand, enveloping his grandson's small one in a warm grasp

"Got you." He shifted the boy's weight slightly "Now, shall we go and see what's happened to my saddlebags?" Glancing at Aragorn he carried Eldarion out of the hall and up to his chambers.

* * *

"Come here you" Laughing Elrond scooped up his errant grandson before the boy could make a dash for the door. Lifting the child up onto the bed next to him he ran his finger over the pointed ear that peaked out from under the dark hair. The boy twisted and dived into his lap, a request for a cuddle that he was fully willing to grant.

"_Eldarion Ambarahyo Telecontar_  
_Child of elves_  
_And Gondor's heir _  
_A little boy_  
_With curly dark hair._  
_Is Eldarion Ambarahyo Telecontar"_

A giggle interrupted his spontaneous tune and he turned a mock glare on its producer "Do you not like my singing?"

Two dark eyes met his own, glimmering with delight "_Ada-nanef"_

Elrond smiled and reflexively ran his finger down the back of Eldarion's ear, eliciting a giggle. Then came a yawn and the boy curled up into a deep sleep. Moving quietly and gently Elrond rose and carried the child to his crib, tucking him in warmly.

"_Ada-nanef" _It was only a half mumble but he stayed there, waiting until the boy's breathing steadied and he truly slept.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Mae g'evennin= _Well met (plural)**

**_Gwannas lû _and= It has been too long**

**_Tirio Adar _= Look Father**

**_Tolo enni, Tolo enni Eldarion_= Come to me, Come to me Eldarion**

**_Mae g'ovannen Eldarion_= Well met Eldarion**

**Anyone remember a scene in this chapter from earlier?**

**Reviews please**


	22. A joyful, loving interlude

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _FireChildSlytherin5_ for reviewing.**

**This chapter ended up fairly humorous, unintentionally I might add. I hope everyone likes it**

* * *

"Your pardon Lord Aragorn, but may I borrow Faramir for a while?" Éowyn's voice interrupted the lingering discussion.

"_Borrow_ him? Eowyn he's your husband, _we've_ been borrowing him from you." Aragorn laughed aloud and gave his Steward a playful shove "Go on, enjoy yourself."

The other man hesitated and Elrond turned a gentle eye on him "_Ki-yâdi, Ki-yadahê hi-nad_"

Faramir nodded and got up, swiftly walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Aragorn threw his foster father a look "What did you say to him"

"_No dhínen…" _Elrond tapped his ear_ "Lasto"_

Distantly, as though echoing down corridors, came an inarticulate cry of joy.

* * *

"Is this allowed, to feel so happy?" Faramir gazed out across to city, over pellenor Fields, to ruined Osgiliath and green Ithilian beyond.

"If it isn't, it should be"

Éowyn twisted her head around to look at him and he wrapped his arms even tighter across her chest and middle, dropping his head for a gentle kiss.

"I love you…" It came out muffled as their lips met again, endearing. Then he flinched as her palm met his arm in a reproving slap

"Do you say that simply because I carry your child, or because you mean it?" A glint in her eye belied the wounded tone of her voice, but Faramir willingly joined the game, pausing in mock consideration

"Hmmm, perhaps it is just the child" he grinned at the outrage on her face "Don't be silly Éowyn, I love you all the time. Especially when I can tease and _tickle_ you." He dragged her close, preceding to do just that

"No Faramir… let me go, you wretch… let me go" Éowyn fought against his grasp, wriggling around to escape and striking his shoulders with her fists.

With a laugh he swung her into his arms and carried her back into the house, tickling as he went.

* * *

"You monster… Why did I marry you?"

Faramir turned his back on his wife as she slumped where he had deposited her on the bed "Because you loved me?"

"I do wonder…" Her voice seemed very cold

"Ah Éowyn" He filled a goblet with water and turned back to her, dropping to one knee in formal Rohirric fashion "Truce my lady?" The next minute he was spluttering having just received a gobletfull of water in the face. Giggling reached his ears and he wiped his vision clear to see Éowyn sitting on the bed laughing at him.

"Éowyn!" He growled the warning and sprang on top of her, tickling as he did so.

* * *

She awoke to hear a soft musical sound in her ears, and half turned her head to see Faramir lying next to her, stroking a strand of her hair and singing in a strange language

"What song is that?"

He stopped and removed his hand "I didn't mean to wake you"

She pulled it back, "Don't, it feels nice…" as he carried on she prompted "The song?"

"Something I made up, translated it runs:

___Praise be the Bay_

___For his truthfulness and love_

___Hail the Chestnut_

___For his spirit and fire_

___But greater than these_

___Is the White Mare_

___She who is untamed and rare_

I don't know where it came from… it just did"

Éowyn smiled at him "I know where… the same place your courage and gentleness comes from" she laid a hand on his heart "Here…"

Faramir simply looked down to her and smiled sadly "If only Boromir had lived to hear you say that, he'd be smiling… glad that he wasn't the only one to see what he called 'Faramir's goodness'." A heavy sigh followed.

She pushed herself up into a sitting positing so their eyes were level "You really miss him don't you? You still grieve…" She pulled him into an embrace "Let your guilt fly away Faramir, there was nothing you could have done to save him… Cut yourself free, it is the only way to keep on living."

"Thus speaks one who knows first-hand, I do suspect…" She felt him draw away then watched helpless as he leapt off the bed and walked to the window "I'm sorry for being so miserable after such happy news… father always nagged Boromir to marry and have a son, Boromir always used to joke about it with me, knowing how much I longed to have a family of my own. He'd say 'You have the children Faramir, teach them the manners… I'll just be a doting Uncle and spoil them rotten.' She met his eyes as he looked round and saw the mixture of happiness and loss in them "I wonder what he'd think if he could see us now."

She slipped off the bed and walked to join him, placing a hand on his arm "He'd be pleased for you, Faramir." She smiled and tucked herself closer, grateful when the warmth of his embrace encircled her to drive off the morning breeze. She felt the shift in his chest and rested against him, pressing her cheek against his sleeping tunic and snuggling, almost missing the quiet words which followed.

"Yes… I think he would…"

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_No dhínen_= Be silent**

**_Lasto_=Listen**

**Adûnaic**

**_Ki-yâdi, Ki-yadahê hi-nad_= You must go, follow her.**

**The poem is my invention entirely**

**Reviews?**


	23. Lullaby and Epessë

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _FireChildSlytherin5_ for reviewing. I'm sorry this chapter has taken a while, and sorrier that the next one will take a long time too (it isn't even finished).**

**Enjoy**

* * *

Arwen smiled as she watched her son toddle determinedly to his grandfather and climb up onto his lap

_"__Telio nin, Adar-nanef_"

Elrond shook his head and looked over at his daughter.

She spoke firmly but gently in Sindarin "It is your bedtime Eldarion, go with your grandfather now."

The boy pulled a face but didn't resist Elrond as he picked him up and carried him into the nursery. Gently he placed the boy in the cradle and tucked him in snugly. Trusting, hopeful eyes looked up at him.

"Sing?"

He smiled "Let me fetch my harp, and I will."

* * *

Slowly he strummed the strings before striking a chord. The music rippled out from under his fingers and he began to sing, the words flowing off his tongue almost as he thought of them

"_Son of the Dúnedain_  
_Prince of the Realms_  
_Son of the Evenstar_  
_Dearest of all elves_

_Child of a dreamy hope_  
_That was everlasting_

_Many names they call you_  
_Many do you have_  
_Yet fairest of all I think _  
_Is that given by love_

_So sleep deeply child_  
_Let your dreams be pure_  
_Sleep Little West-star_  
_Protected by my love"_

Slowly he let the final note from the strings die. Then he rose slowly, set down the harp and moved over to the cradle. Eldarion had curled up and gripped his blanket in one small hand. With a tender smile the Elf-lord reached down and ran a finger over the boy's ear, trying to express all his love in the simple touch.

"_Otho vae Dunelig_"

He paused briefly, he had used that name twice now in a matter of minutes. But then he nodded to himself, as Eldarion had given him an Epessë, so now did he do the same. Brushing a stray curl off the boy's face he reluctantly turned away from the endearing child…

Looking out the window he found his eyes resting on Eärendil. The Silmaril's light shone down, apparently landing indiscriminately until suddenly Elrond saw a distinct beam in the light. Tilting his head he determined that it pointed over his shoulder and lit up the cradle. He touched his heart in respect as he recognised the significance, his father was recognising Eldarion as one of his blood, a child of the Peredhil, one of the ancient Númenórean line. Slowly, his heart lifting with love, he smiled.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Telio nin, Adar-nanef _= Play [with] me, Grandfather**

**_Otho vae Dunelig= _Sweet dreams Little West-Star**

**_[] mark implied words ommitted due to Eldarion's youth. _**

**Whenever Eldarion is called _Dunelig_ it will be Elrond speaking, visa versa for _Adar-naneth_. **

**The poem/song is all my own creation.**

**Reviews please? **


	24. Penninor Veren

**Firstly, sorry for the delay. **

**Secondly thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf, Luthien Surion-my elvish name, FireChildSlytherin5, Zammy_ and for the reviews, the largest amount I've had since the first chapter.**

**Now without furthur ado, the chapter **

* * *

"_Penninor veren_ Estel" Arwen whispered as first light filtered through the window

"_Penninor veren Meletheg_" He smiled at her then lent down to scoop a roughly wrapped package from under the bed before addressing her again in Sindarin "This is for you".

The paper fell away to reveal a necklace, a small bird on silver chain, set with diamonds. Arwen gazed at it, then turned to him, her eyes shining

"Thank you" Then she dropped her eyes "I'm not worth it"

Aragorn tilted his head and looked straight at her "In Beren's mind Lúthien was worth facing death to win. I happen to be of the same opinion about you. Nothing I can give you would be undeserved." He lent over and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her possesivly

"_ehem_"

They sprang apart, both twisting their heads to see Elrond standing at the chamber doorway, a small smile on his lips.

"When you two are quite ready there are many more gifts waiting out here for attention." He turned and walked back into the main chamber.

Aragorn waited for a second then let out a breath of relief, remembering where and who he now was… Arwen's legal husband, not just a lovestruck young Estel or the instigator of a forbiddon plight troth. Yet for a second he'd believed himself back in Rivendell, sneeking meetings and kisses from his Evenstar, dreading what would happen if he was caught.

* * *

"That was not fair father."

Elrond looked over at his daughter, drawing a mask of innocence over his face "What wasn't fair?"

Arwen glared at him, looking extraordinarily like her grandmother as she did so "You know very well what I refer to." With a stately grace both he and Estel admired she crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs that formed a ring around the dining table and its heap of wrapped presents.

Before anyone could choose one to start the opening there was a sound of a thump, followed by rattling which grew louder and louder as whatever it was made its way up the corridor, accompanied by a huffing noise and halting steps. Elrond watched out of the corner of his eye as Aragorn rose and silently drew his dagger, then moved to the side of the door, ready to spring on any attacker. The door swung open…

"_Sîdh_ Estel!" Elrond shouted and automatically leapt to his feet to prevent trouble. Aragorn had leapt to face the attacker but sheathed his knife mid-swing as he came almost nose to nose with Faramir, who jumped back instinctively.

"Your pardon milord" Gasped the startled steward, lowering his hands.

Aragorn shook his head "Nay, I ask yours for frightening you so…" then he stepped aside, allowing Faramir and Éowyn to enter. Behind them stood two panting guards, slumped on a barrel.

As confused as he was Elrond started to laugh, elaborating his words with an arm movement "Behold the great monster."

It was infectious, Arwen started to giggle and then, with a rueful grin and shaking head, Aragorn joined in, while Faramir, eowyn and the guards watched in bemusement.

"Lord Elrond…" one of the guards broke through the laughter and held out a folded piece of parchment "This letter was delived with the cask, tis addressed to you."

He took it with a nod "My thanks, ah," He tilted his head in enquiry of the man's name

The guard flushed slightly and ducked his head "Baran is my name"

Elrond bowed slightly "My thanks to you Baran." Then he glanced at Aragorn and Faramir, eyes sparkling "Are you two rangers too high up to lend a shoulder to honest guards?"

Both men rolled their eyes but proceeded to roll the cask through the doorway and then stand it unobtrusively in a corner. On the pretext of wedging it further in Aragorn lent over so his lips nearly brushed the stewards ear

"Is it my imagination or are we being made a jest of?"

Faramir tilted his head in mock consideration and then nodded in a definite way, flicking his wrist to neatly catch the apple Éowyn threw from the table. Aragorn simply ducked his, causing a sigh from Arwen and a supressed giggle from Éowyn. With all the gravity he could manage Aragorn returned to the table and sat down, pickingup the package neaest to him to identify its recipient.

"This one's for you Faramir…" He pushed the bulky package across the table to the Steward.

The wrapping fell away to reveal a beautiful leather-bound book. Faramir frowned and looked over to Aragorn and Arwen in confusion

"Who?"

Aragorn answered "Most likely it was Erestor, I overheard Boromir metioning to him that you liked the old tales."

Faramir flipped through the pages, noting they were hand written"And he wrote these out and had them bound in good leather, for _me_? He's never even met me."

"Nor have many Dunadain, but you will still find gifts there from them."

He raised his eyes from the book to meet Aragorns glowing ones "You are well loved Faramir, never forget that."

* * *

Elrond's shout of delight shattered the reassuring silence and brought all eyes to him. The elder Peredhel's eyes were glinting with delight as he transfured his gaze from the parchment to his companions "Thranduil has seen sense at last… and he sends that cask of Dorwinion as a peace offering and apology." He gestured with his head in the direction of the corner, snatching up a cup form the table as he rose to his feet.

"To you and to all those absent I give this toast and blessing…" A moment of silence as he raised the goblet in the air "May the Valar keep us all safe and allow us this pleasure next year… _Penninor __veren_"

The others raised their goblets in reply, each echoing the toast in their own tongue

"_Penninor __veren_"

"_Géol_ _myrige"_

"_Kalama __Mettarë_"

Elrond glanced at Faramir and half lifted his goblet in an extra salute to the old toast. The Steward acknowledged it with a nod and a smile "And Merry Yule to the hobbits and Dwarves in the North".

As concurrence rang around the room Elrond smiled again and scooped Eldarion off the floor into his arms, speaking quietly to him.

_"Penninor __veren Dunelig… _May there be many more to come."

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Penninor __veren_= Joyous Midwinter**

**___Sîdh_=Peace**

**Rohirric**

**_Géol_ _myrige= _Joyous Yule **

**Adûnaic**

**_Kalama __Mettarë= _Joyous Midwinter**

**Yes I know, a Christmas themed chapter in September... **

**Sorry if it seems slightly scrappy, muse has gone walkabout and there was a loose end to tie up.**

**Do I still get reviews?**


	25. The Cauneg of Ithilien

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _Zammy_ for reviewing. **

**For future reference, this chapter is set in April.**

* * *

They were sat at breakfast when the chamber door opened to admit Faramir. Elrond sprang to his feet at once, guiding the Steward to his vacated chair and pushing him into it.

When he got a good look at his friend even Aragorn frowned "Did you go to bed at all last night Faramir?"

The man shook his head "No" Gratefully he grabbed the goblet of wine Arwen filled for him and took a long gulp before setting it down with a sigh "Thank you…" His head drooped until it nerly touched his arms, hiding the dark smudges under his eyes

"You should leave the paperwork, You're no good at anything half alive."

"Not paperwork Aragorn…" Some of the tiredness seemed to leave Faramir's voice as he continued "I was up the whole night with Éowyn

The other three shared a bemused look between them. Elrond was first to speak,

"Is she well?"

"She is now. Tired but well." Faramir lifited his head off his arms, eyes sparkling and a large smile on his face "We have a son."

Whatever else he ment to say was lost in the unanimous and incomprehensible shout that made the rafters ring. It was followed by a babble of protest from Eldarion who tried to cover his ears

"_ú-cano_"

Everyone fell silent and Arwen held out her arms to her son, lifting him up onto her lap "I'm sorry Dari, we forgot about your sharp hearing" She looked up again "Were you going to say something else Faramir? Before we all…" She faded out and simply gestured

Faramir laughed, his eyes still glowing "Yes… "His voice became slightly softer and gentler "We named him Elboron… it seemed to suit."

"Elboron" Elrond spoke quietly "Enduring Star…" Inside he smiled. _It is apt, for the lords of Dol Amroth are descended from the first Numenorean lords, and the blood does yet endure in you and your kin Faramir. _

However all he could say aloud without causing consternation and confusion was "A fine choice, and I am sure he will live up to it."

"My thanks lord Elrond" Faramir met the Elf's eyes for a second then yawned, breaking all semblance of composure.

"Go back home and sleep Faramir, I'm sure Aragorn and I can manage between us for one day"

Faramir made to protest "But…

Elrond held up a hand "You need to rest… _Ki-yadahê_"

Faramir bowed his head, partly in assent, partly from exhaustion and made to rise.

* * *

The room door opened again to admit a page, carrying a laden tray of food. He met the steward's eyes with a smile "With Cook's complements and congratulations for you and your lady, My Lord, breakfast." Carefully he deposited the tray on the table, then left.

Faramir's eyes had lit up as he surveyed the plates, carefully he pulled one towards him and bit one of the yellow cakes on it, chewing slowly. When he fianally swallowed it was with a small smile on his lips "Honey cakes… I used to love them when I was a boy." He ducked his head "Whenever I got back from a long abscance on duty, in Ithilian or Osgiliath, there would be a plateful waiting on my desk." The smile began to show And when we won Osgiliath back Cook had one of the message riders bring out a bagful… I still owe her a thank you for that." He stood up again "Something which I will remedy right now…"

"No you won't" Elrond rose to his full height and shook his head warningly "You will sit down, finish that meal, then go home and sleep yourself out. In this, Khor Faramir, I speak as a healer rather than a friend, and I expect obedience…" He let the sentence trail off. Faramir bowed in acceptance, dropping back into the chair.

"To Elboron, the _Cauneg _of Ithilien " Aragorn raised his cup slightly

"Ebon, koweg o'thilen" piped Eldarion, raising his hand in mimicry of his father

Faramir grinned once more, nodding at his prince "To that."

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_ú-cano_= Don't shout**

**_Cauneg_= Little Prince**

**Adûnaic**

**_Ki-yadahê_= You must go**

**Reviews please **


	26. A Birthday Party

**Sorry for the very long delay, real life has been awkward. Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _PatonxJulia_, _Metoochocolate_, and _Sauron's Cake._ **

**Enjoy**

* * *

"_Echuio…_ _Echuio_" the imperious voice came from somewhere above him. Half-awake Aragorn tried to bat whatever it was away

"_Ada… Echuio!…_ _Echuio!_" The bed began to creak as the person bounced up and down.

Aragorn finally opened his eyes to see Eldarion kneeling above him, an expectant look on his fact. He gave a mock sigh "_Man, Dari?_"

"_Echuio!_"

He glanced out the window before replying in the same language "It's barely dawn Dari, go back to bed"

"Won't" The boy's face set into a stubborn glare

Finally he gave in and reached under the bed, retrieving a wooden box "Here you little mischief"

The nimble fingered boy soon had it open to reveal a small rearing horse carved out of wood. Respectfully he freed it from its box and slipped the cord over his head. Aragorn watched, suddenly seeing a more solemn side to his tumble-into-trouble child.

"Thank you." Excited as he had seemed a moment before Eldarion wriggled under the blankets between himself and Arwen, resting his head on his mother's shoulder.

"No more fun?" Aragorn smiled, teasing

"Grandfather will snap if I bounce him, no fun"

They shared an amused look over his head, both swallowing laugher at the child's double meaning. Arwen was first to speak.

"Go and see him little one, it isn't allowed to be angry with someone on their birthday."

Eldarion wriggled "no more presents _here_?"

"Only for little boys who go back to bed and stay there until fetched" Aragorn put on a stern glare. With a wriggle and a shift of blankets their son was gone, racing back to his bed as quietly as he could. Aragorn caught his wife's eye and they shared a smile, eyes glinting.

* * *

"No peeking"

The boy shook his head, feeling the hands over his eyes removed

A different voice spoke "_Edro!_"

He blinked rapidly, eyes focusing on a tall blond figure standing in the room "Leolas! Did you bring me a present?"

"Eldarion!" scolded his mother "Is that the way to greet a family friend?"

"_Pinig_" The elf smiled and in response to the first question looked over at his companion "Did we bring an impolite little mortal a gift Gimli?"

"No we did _not_" Answered the Dwarf, banging his axe on the floor for emphasis

"But it's my birday… you get presents on your birday" His eyes filled with tears and he bit his bottom lip

"However" Continied the elf "I do recall packing something for a boy called Eldarion, of the House of Telecontar… Now, does anyone know a person of that name?"

"Me, me, me." The boy jumped up and down "I'm Eldarion."

Gimli's eyes showed surprise "Don't you know its bad luck to bounce about like that."

"Only on ships and not on your birthday." The answer came out from his mouth in gabbled Sindarin, leaving Gimli waiting for a translation. When he did the dwarf frowned severly, muttering something uninteligable.

"I'm quite glad I can't understand that master Gimli." Faramir entered the room, with Éowyn at his heels carrying Elboron in her arms "It would be wrong to openly insult a child on his birthday." They all laughed, making the rafters ring with delight

* * *

Everyone watched Eldarion as he untangled the string of his last present, pulling the cloth away and revealing a carved wooden horse on rockers. He paused, taking a long look then bounded sideways, reaching to hug Faramir. The steward smiled and accepted the silent thanks.

"That's all of them Dari" Elrond confirmed as his grandson gave the room one final look.

* * *

Without warning a grey mass of fur and paws cannoned through the servent's door, bowling Eldarion off his feet and propelling itself and him half way to the wall.

"As you can see" came a slightly breathless voice from the door way It wasn't quite all." The speaker stepped into the rom

Aragorn spun on his chair, from which he had half risen as Eldarion fell "Elladan! _Telasseg hi am man theled?_" He leapt up to embrace the half-elf

A second voice spoke up from the servants doorway "Speak the Common tongue when around non-elves, wasn't that what you tried to drill into us _Toreg?" _in the doorway a hood was thrown back to reveal a second elf "And in answer to your question I have another. Are we not allowed to visit on our nephew's birthday?"

This time it was Arwen who sprang to her feet "_Mae g'ovannen_ Elrohir"

The younger twin embraced his sister wordlessly then nodded to the others in the room "All in Rivendell and Arnor send their greetings friends."

"Welcome to Minas Tirith lords" Faramir had stood up during the exclamations and became the courteous second-host. The Peredhil smiled at the courtly politeness,

Elrond briefly raised his head from where he knelt, disentangling puppy and boy, directing his gaze first at his sons then to Faramir "_No dhínen Gwenyneg. _And sit down Faramir" then he switched to Adûnaic "They aren't worthy of ceremony."

"Lord Elrond" The Steward was shocked "They are your sons."

He just prevented his lips twitching as he answered "My point exactly."

"Adar!" The enraged exclamations of his sons stilled all other comment. Elrond simply stared at them for a second, allowing Eldarion to wriggle free, scampering to his new kin.

"Not hurt, not hurt."

Elladan looked down, crouching until he was at the child's level "_Man i eneth dîn?"_

"Beren" The name was proclaimed clearly so all could hear "His name is Beren"

Each smiled in turn as the child's gaze reached their face but only Elrond spoke "A fine name _Dunelig, _a fine name_."_

The boy smiled reaching out to rub the yearling dog's head as it licked his hand.

* * *

It was only later when both Elboron and Eldarion had been put to bed that Elladan briefly broached a puzzling topic "Where are King Éomer and Queen Lothíriel? we had expected to see them here.

As had we, until a week ago" concurred Aragorn, glancing at Éowyn, giving her permission to finish the tale.

"Éomer sent me a short letter, hurried and blunt." She sighed "It seems that Lothíriel became ill suddenly, she wasn't fit to travel."

"A pity."

"Yes, a very great pity, but better she stayed in Rohan than risk exacerbating her illness by travel" Neither of the twins picked up her undertone, but the others did and they shared looks; part-amused, part-understanding and partly worried. But fully comprehending.

* * *

**Translations **

**_Echuio= _wake up**

**_Edro= _Open**

**___Pinig= _Little one**

**_____Telasseg hi am man theled= _Why are you here?**

**_Toreg_= Little brother **

**_No dhínen Gwenyneg_=Be quiet my twins**

**Note; I muddled up the birthdays. **

**Eldarion= April**

**Elboron= March**


	27. Seastorm Tempers

**Well here is the next chapter, not one of my better ones unfortunately. Thank you to_ Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and_ PatonxJulia_ for reviewing. **

* * *

Delighted giggles mingled with the clip-clop of hooves floated up from the Citadel garden as Faramir perused his letter. Lifting his head as the rich laughter of Elrond joined in, his eyes met those of his wife

"It seems that Dari is enjoying learning to ride." Then he noticed she too held a piece of paper, with considerably more ink on it. "You too?"

Éowyn nodded "From Lothíriel." She grimaced "She as good as orders me to stop Éomer taking Elfwine riding through Edoras 'he is too young'. I restrain myself from pointing out that had Elfwine been born in spring instead of autumn he would have been being carried in the saddle at least a month younger than he is." She shook her head "Who's yours from?"

Faramir couldn't help laughing "You'd be shouted at for that." He smiled and answered her question "Éomer, begging me to come and restrain my cousin before she commits murder, or so the tone implies." He passed her the paper on which was written or rather, as she apparently noted, scribbled;

_Faramir_

_Thiri furious over Elfwine riding._

_Come_

_HELP!_

_E _

Éowyn read it quickly and looked back at him "Well, what shall we do? They're both appealing for help independently to each of us, and they are kin."

He sighed "If it was just Thiri or just Éomer I'd send a letter or let them work it out between them… but both of them, it seems this matter would be better cleared up face to face." Faramir looked up from the table he'd been contemplating "And there lies the snag. If only one of us goes then whichever wrote to them will want monopoly

"And will no doubt be furious if the other side of the argument is explained."

"Which means both would have to go which is out of the question because Elboron's too young, either to travel or be left behind. So we're back where we started." He threw up his hands in despair "I don't know what to do."

* * *

"Do about what?" Aragorn's quiet voice interrupted him. The king held up a hand to prevent speech "No let me guess. It's that old riding tradition. Éomer's been following it as his father and grandfathers and great-grandfathers did, while Lothíriel doesn't understand the reasons for the custom, so she only sees the danger her child is being put in and is furious about it."

Faramir nodded "To the pin point." He looked over at his wife, raising his eyebrows "Does something amuse you Éowyn?"

"I'm having difficulty imagining Lothíriel furious, she's always so gentle and kind."

Now Aragorn joined the quiet amusement with a chuckle "The women of Dol Amroth have all had tempers, well hidden I'll grant, but they have them." The Steward stared at him, a question buzzing in his brain, receiving an answer immediately "Yes, all of them, Faramir, even your mother."

He almost gaped, disblef thick in his voice "She never."

Aragorn nodded "She did." He walked over and sat easily on a chair, leaning back "If you would allow me to regale a story."

Eyes widening Faramir nodded "Please do."

"It was around a month after your brother was born, a ranging party came back and their captain had been killed; old Abrazîr. He'd taught your father to fight if I remember, and after that patrol he would have received his retirement notice and a pension. That evening your father went missing.

Discreetly, myself and another solider searched for him." Aragorn sighed "We finally found him in one of the lower level taverns; half- drunk from trying to forget his sorrows, hauled him out and marched, or rather dragged, him back up to the Citadel. Findulas was waiting for us when we reached his chambers. She threw a jug of water over Denethor, ordered us out and let rip." Now he was grinning "She was shouting loud enough to be heard over a winter gale in the sundering sea, and she was as blunt as one… Some of the language she used, I didn't even realise that saliors reverted to it in anything but the worst storms." Aragorn smiled "However broken she ended her life, your mother stood up for herself and Boromir that night… As Lothíriel now defies Éomer for the same reason."

* * *

"Well" Éowyn let out a breath "That's a tale you don't here every fire lit evening…"

"Aragorn shook his head, smiling "no"

Unfortunately it only tells us what Éomer is facing, it doesn't get us any further on what we're going to do to help, namely how Faramir and I can go there with Elboron at this age."

Aragorn frowned "To that alas, I have no answer."

"I do… I might have" Arwen appeared from the corner

Faramir threw up his hands in exasperation "Does the whole of Gondor know about this fiasco, or just everyone in Minas Tirith?"

"Actually only us five within Gondor's borders" Elrond also entered "Now what was the solution that you proposed Arwen?"

"we…" she glanced at both Aragorn and her father then gave a half smile "or rather I could look after Elboron while you are gone."

Faramir was stunned by the offer, instinctively he rose and bowed "Lady, we are honoured by your offer." He met Éowyn's eyes, seeing her consent, then turned back to Arwen "And we accept your offer."

She smiled_ "I 'ell nîn_ _mellyn_"

* * *

**Translations **

**_I 'ell nîn_ _mellyn_=It is my pleasure, friends**

**Warning; for the sake of my plot brain we are going to skip the resolution of this conflict. If I write a parallel story about Rohan (which I plan to but no promises) I will include it in greater depth.**

**Reveiws?**


	28. A cohort of mischief and time together

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ and _Zammy_ for reviewing**

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter**

* * *

"I never did understand why you made such a fuss then Lothíriel… and I doubt I ever will" Elrond looked at the lady who stood next to him, gazing out the window into the garden

She shook her head "I don't understand either, not now when I see how happy Elfwine is. I think I was scared, I love him so much and all I saw was danger."

He watched her head drop slightly and prompted her on in Adûnaic "Why?"

"I don't know… And the only reason I can think of seems so silly." She met his eyes and sighed "As happy as I am in Rohan, some part of me is tied to the sea. Elfwine… he is not just a child of Rohan, he has the blood of Dol Amroth, of Númenor, too. When Éomer took him riding, I think I saw more than my child being taken for some fun with his father, I saw him becoming Rohirrim, cutting away any of the heritage I could teach him as he grows, for he was already being set in one mould."

Elrond nodded slowly "The bond to the sea has long been the curse of the Númenóreans, they are as close to Elven as men ever get, like us you and your kin are drawn by its song, only you cannot answer what it truly asks of you." He looked at her "You told Éomer this?"

"In part, when we were wed, he swore he would never keep me from the sea, though he himself has little liking for it…"

"And regarding Elfwine?"

She shook her head, golden hair glinting in the sun but a shout stopped her from speaking.

"Hi, you ruffian! Get down from there!"

* * *

Elrond rounded the corner to see one of the council nobles glaring up at the branches of a tree and shaking his fist, while cursing in the worst language he apparently knew.

"Good afternoon Lord Arnubên" He spoke in his most polite voice "Might I know what is the matter?"

The lord whirled around, another curse clearly on his lips, and gesticulated up at the tree "Lord Elrond, I demand you control those children."

Even as his brain worked out what was going on, his face maintained a calm exterior, hiding his dislike of this particular council member. "Which children would they be Arnubên?"

"Those ones" The councillor gestured up at the tree "Can't you see them?"

Obediently, if only to mollify the man, Elrond studied the foliage above him. There was something, or several somethings, up there, he could see an odd gold section near one of the branches, and the glint of silver thread slightly higher up. After a moment he turned back to Arnubên, spreading his hands "I see nothing."

The man grumbled but meeting Elrond's eyes, finally marched off.

Smiling Elrond raised his eyes to the tree "_Gi __cenin_ _Dunelig_" After a moment of rustling the boy's bright face appeared at the lowest branch, from where he easily jumped to the ground with an impish grin. Elrond almost took a half step back, suddenly finding himself back in Imladris, seeing another young boy in exactly the same situation, with the same behaviour. Dari's voice brought him to the present.

"Bor, Win, come on it's not far." A second dark haired boy joined him, but the golden haired one stayed on the branch, fear in his eyes.

"Come _on_ Win" Elboron's voice was light "We both managed it."

The boy refused to move. With a smile Elrond stepped forward and held out his arms "Jump Elfwine, I will catch you."

"Go on lad" A newly broken voice spoke from within the foliage "I'm getting stiff."

Elrond watched as Elfwine swallowed, wriggled forwards and leapt. Smoothly he took half a step sideways, bracing as the boy landed against him, then lowered him to the groud

"Not so bad?"

Elfwine shook his head "No" But Elrond noted he was trembling badly. He looked around for someone to take charge, and found Bergil straightening up next to him

"Lord Elrond" The half grown boy saluted, which Elrond acknowledged

"It was you up the tree too?"

"Yes Sir" Bergil grinned "Come on you two, the least I can do is get you back to your parents" he glanced at Elfwine then Elboron, of course there may be time for a diversion to the kitchens." Both the younger boys grinned at that, and Eldarion took half a step forward, which Elrond stalled by placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder. To the enquiring look he tilted his head in the direction of the garden. After one wistful look after his friends, the boy followed willingly enough, and he heard the shorter legs trotting after him.

* * *

He smiled as their destination came into sight, one of the Haven's in the garden.

A small voice panted behind him in Sindarin "Wait for me…"

Obediently he paused close to the rail, half turning to grasp his grandson and swing him easily over the railing into one of the chairs, walking around to the steps he bounded up them, only to sweep Eldarion out of the chair, sit down himself, and place the boy back on his lap.

"Grandfather…" The boy wriggled in protest

Elrond smiled down at him and pulled him into a tighter embrace "Hm"

The answer was disjointed "Didn't… come here… get smothered."

Didn't you?" The answer was a violently shaken head "Well, why did you come here?

"You asked" The boy had twisted free to look at him, dark eyes accusing

"So I did" Then he sighed and set the boy down "Off you go then, go and find Bor and Win…" Glancing at his grandson he raised an eyebrow "Unless you'd rather ride Suldal with me down to the market."

He laughed as Dari spun on one foot to face him "Can I Grandfather? Please?"

For an answer he held out his arms, scooping the boy up easily and whistled. Suldal appeared from where she had hidden in the trees, walking carefully to avoid leaving marks on the grass. Elrond lifted Eldarion up into the saddle, before swing up himself and nudging Suldal on.

* * *

As they rode down the streets it was to see many startled faces

"They don't expect us to be here without an escort do they?

Elrond shook his head slightly as the boy swivelled around to face him "No" He dropped his voice "At least not when we're so obviously us."

Dari frowned and he elaborated "your father comes down here sometimes as a ranger, rather than a king. I don't believe anyone has ever given him away either." The he laughed "Which, given some of the gossips that have been mentioned by the guards, is quite remarkable."

Would people gossip if I came down here on Hasufel?" The boy's eyes were alight with part worry for the problem, part joy at the fact that he named a pony who was all his own

"To that I do not know the answer _Dunelig_, but I would think it most unwise for you to ride alone. There may still be some unscrupulous characters in the lower circles quite willing to kidnap a young noble boy for ransom."

Dari fell silent, apparently digesting the information "Is that way Father won't let me ride out of the city without a squad of guards?

Elrond nodded slowly, knowing how much the knowledge of the restriction prevented the boy from asking to ride into pellenor and beyond "That and the fact that some dark things still linger…" he had switched to the common tongue without realising so was surprised when one of the men walking past flinched with fear in his eyes and murmured a prayer against such ill fortune. Quickly he reverted to Sindarin "Though your father and Eomer have done much to restore peace to the lands, I fear some of the Dark ones minions still wait in hiding." He shook his head at his own thoughts. _I still fear darkness even when its root is utterly gone, I fear as I feared after the War of Wrath and the Last Alliance. This time it is useless memory that scares me._

"_Adar-naneth?"_

He shook himself "It's nothing _Dunelig_… just ghosts of memories".

"Ghosts aren't real."

Now he could smile "No Dari, not in he way you mean." He turned Suldal to ride along the defence wall, stopping her at a view point.

"Its beautiful" Eldarion's voice was full of wonder as he gazed towards Rohan "I see it every day but it doesn't change the power."

"Power?"

The boy twisted to face him "It's all so vast, and we're so small."

Elrond felt him shiver and slowly turned Suldal away from the drooping sun "Come Dari, let's go home…

The boy perked up "Then can I find Bor and Win again? We'd planned to…" He covered his mouth quickly and then smiled

Elrond smiled back "More mischief, _Dunelig_?

_And I wouldn't have you any other way_

* * *

**Translations **

**___Gi __cenin= _I see you **

**Reviews please. **


	29. A fateful ride

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf _and _Zammy_ for reviewing**

* * *

Eldarion was smiling broadly as he swung up onto his pony's back. Elrond could only return the sentiment, knowing how much it meant to the boy to be allowed to ride out, if under a sturdy guard. Stepping closer he looked into his grandson's eyes, brushing back the boy's fringe and speaking in their shared tongue "Don't be rash Little West Star, you mean too much to me…" He stopped and stepped back, partly to control a nagging sense of unease and protectiveness

"You're to be back by sunset, no later. Is that understood?"

"Yes Sire"

He managed to keep his face blank at the Captain's slightly sour reply to his King's instruction, but gently placed a hand on his foster son's shoulder as Aragorn stepped back, tense with a righteous anger. He murmured softly in Sindarin, attempting to soothe him

"Easy Estel, don't spoil it for Dari"

Aragorn nodded almost imperceptibly then raised his hand in formal farewell salute to the group

"Fair weather and firm paths to you, may you return home safely."

Eldarion sat straighter and retuned the gesture, only a glinting in his grey eyes indicating his growing excitement. Together the three watched as the group rode down the ramp and out into the levels of the city.

* * *

As the final horse vanished Elrond felt his daughter leaning heavily against him "Arwen, what is wrong?"

She twitched slightly, staring after her son "I don't know… it's like a dark mist over my heart, cutting me apart from Eldarion, separating us forever…"

Involuntarily he tightened his grip, recognising the feeling she described as being similar, if not identical to his own fear. It was only with difficulty that he reassured her "The captain will keep him safe, Estel would only allow a man he trusted to undertake this duty."

"And his life won't be worth living if he fails." Aragorn's words came out a low and dangerous. Elrond glared at him in reproach "Be careful of your expression of feelings, Estel, I would hate for you to become another Isildur."

Slightly chastened his foster son nodded acceptance of the warning, before leading Arwen back inside the hall with courtly formality. Elrond lingered in the courtyard, resting one hand on the white tree in a superstitious and futile attempt to ward of the feeling of worry and danger threatening to engulf him. With a final glance back to the pinnacle of Minas Tirith and out beyond to Pelennor fields he also gave up the farewell vigil and began to make his way, along long corridors and winding down ward stairs to the vault library, were he had a feeling that the best texts, those most valuable yet most forgotten, were stored.

* * *

Deep in a scroll discussing the landing of the _Elendili_ ships, he was most startled to be interrupted by a banging on the door

"Who is it?"

"Beregond Sir… The King and the Steward ask that you join them in the great hall"

He smiled slightly at the formal pronouncement of the titles, allowing himself an inward laugh, before rolling up the scroll and picking up his candle. Weaving his way through the shelves he unbolted the door and stepped out into the passage. The Captain of the White Company stood there holding a lantern and muttering

"What is the matter?"

"The wall sconces aren't lit Sir, they should be… particularly as it's nearly dusk outside." The man snapped his teeth shut on the last word, anger darkening his eyes

"Peace Beregond" Elrond soothed "There is no point getting angry over little things."

The man shook his head ruefully "you're right Sir, but its old habit to want light to see by, just in case something's lurking out there."

Elrond nodded and put a hand on his shoulder "We all have old habits, and mostly they're worth keeping" Then he gestured onward down the corridor "Shall we go?"

With a hurried nod Beregrond led the way, his lantern bobbing and throwing shadows up the wall.

* * *

The first thing he noticed entering the hall was Beren next to the door, laying still enough to be mistaken for a fur rug. Frowning he closed the distance to the table where Faramir and Aragorn stood talking, speaking as he did so

"Is Dari not back yet?"

Aragorn lifted his head and frowned "No, and he should be." Concern, mixed with anger, filled both his face and his voice.

Elrond held up a hand, annoyed at himself for passing his worry onto the other man "_Sîdh Estel…_ He's a boy, he's probably dragging out his freedom as long as the captain will let him." He forced his eyes to twinkle, pushing back his worry "Like someone else I know."

Aragorn sighed and pulled a face; half grimace, half smile "Point taken"

Elrond nodded slightly in acceptance "Now, what did you drag me away from the scrolls for? Not taxes I hope?"

Faramir shook his head "No, not taxes… an old clause in a charter request, I can translate it but it is nonsense…"

Elrond lent forward to take the offered parchment, only to be interrupted by the hall doors bursting open.

The messenger stumbled and fell to the floor, gasping for air. For a split second there was silence, then the disjointed words rasped out "The prince's horse…riderless."

Aragorn ran to the man "Where? Where is the horse?"

The messenger lifted one hand to point out the door. Following the gesture Elrond saw Hasufel standing in the courtyard, his coat dark with sweat, the reins riding high on his neck. There was a sharp intake of breath as Aragorn also registered what he saw, then they both ran forward, down the steps and to the horse. Hasufel tried to shy away, his eyes ringed with fear but was clearly too tired to make much of an effort. Elrond slowly grasped the reins and rubbed the horse's forehead as Aragorn ran his hands all over the damp body.

"No wounds… no marks… Noth-" His commentary cut off with a sharp intake of breath. Elrond stopped mid-rub and stepped next to him. His voice was sharp when he spoke

"_Man te?"_

Aragorn held out his hand, palm up. On it lay a scrap of dark, ragged fabric.

Elrond swallowed and picked it up. It was rough, poorly woven_. _

_Only one thing in Arda wears this_ _type of cloth_

The thought ran through his brain before he could quash it. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet Aragorn's. One word came from his foster son's mouth, layered with disgust.

"_Yrch_"

* * *

Running feet indicated Faramir's arrival. No words were needed, he simply looked from one of them to the other, then down at the fabric and his face sank.

"There is still hope…" Even the steward's tone admitted that he was clutching strands "The guards… perhaps he was only unseated and Hasufel bolted, perhaps he's riding home now."

"Perhaps" Aragorn's voice was flat, dead.

Elrond flinched, recognising it as his own tone after Elros had died. Desperate he forced his foster son to look at him "Estel, at least wait until the guards come back, Faramir could be right

The reply came in bitter Sindarin "You don't believe it, even though you say it… I can tell."

He sighed "Just wait."

* * *

And wait the three did, through dusk and into the twilight with Arwen and Eowyn at their sides. Eventually hooves were heard and the troop appeared, the captain at its head, looking forward, his lieutenant glancing behind fruitlessly every few seconds. It was that, a small, normally insignificant detail, that confessed the horrible truth.

Then, as Elrond struggled to comprehend what they were seeing and what it meant… as Arwen suddenly crumpled against him with a small cry… and Aragorn's eyes went cold…

Beren began to howl

* * *

**Translations**

**_Man te?_= What is it?**

**_Yrch_= Orchs**

**Reviews please... if I deserve them**


	30. Am man theled?

**Thank you to_ Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Goldenfightergirl_, _Greenscarfgirl_ and _Zammy_ for reviewing. (And not killing me)**

**Warning; Tissues may be required **

* * *

Elrond saw Aragorn tense and draw to his full height, breathing in deeply. However when he spoke his voice was surprisingly low, though with an edge as hard as a mithril blade "Where is my son?"

The Captain flinched "Sire, he was captured by Orcs, there was nothing we could do… it happened so fast."

"Why did you not pursue them?"

Elrond noted that the lieutenant shifted slightly in his saddle and half opened his mouth as if about to speak, only to shut it again at a glare from the captain.

"We deemed it better to bring you news immediately than delay by attempting to follow the trail, they were moving fast."

Aragorn gave a slow nod, too slow "Come inside."

The captain breathed out, clearly believing he had a reprieve. However Elrond noticed that the majority of his men grouped close to the lieutenant, their faces ashamed and upset. His brain slipping briefly out of shock as it registered this, he leant over to Faramir "Send out every company you can on search, alert the Rangers, Rohan and Dol Amroth."

The Steward nodded, and with a wary glance at Aragorn's set back and shoulders, hurried off.

* * *

The doors slammed shut behind them, guards and servants hurrying away as they saw the King's face. Elrond didn't need to see it to know the set features and slate cold eyes that were at that moment directed at the throne.

"Why?" The word was short and cold

The Captain frowned "Your Majesty, I believe I have already given my explanation.

But why did you not split the party, half of you coming back, half of you tracking on?"

The Captain looked nervous "Sire, I believed there were too many orcs for a party the size of ours to take, even at full strength…"

"So you left my son to torture and death at their cruel hands… You forswore the oaths you took on your commission, to fight to the death to defend your King and country…"

"Sire…" The Captain attempted to interrupt,

Aragorn swung round to face him "Don't say it; Though my son is not yet King, one day he would have been. He was the future of this Kingdom, the heir of the Reunited Kingdoms…" He raised an eyebrow sarcastically at the Captain "Are you so pleased about the King's return that you would jeopardise it when it has not even a decade to its name?"

The Captain mumbled incoherently, then spoke aloud "Sire, I believed I was serving you best by bringing news."

But it seemed to Elrond that his foster son was no longer listening "What promise did you make to me just this morning?"

"I swore I would protect the prince…" The Captain attempted to halt but met Elrond's glare and instead continued "From any danger, even if it meant giving up my life." He pulled his eyes away from Aragorn's, which were now, Elrond noted, burning with a wild, almost feral fire of anger, the only hole in the otherwise solid gates behind which the anger was contained.

Then it exploded with a force like a tidal wave "And did you keep that oath Captain? NO! You decided that the best way to protect my son was not to attempt to regain him from the orcs the second he was taken, or even to track them… Instead, what did you do? You ran, you turned tail and fled home hoping you would look battle worn enough to assuage me of your efforts!"

The echo rang round the hall like a clang of metal in a smith's cavern. Elrond watched as Aragorn ripped the marks of rank from the soldier's sleeve, and held them in a closed fist under his nose as he stared down the captain before speaking "You are demoted from your rank, and dismissed from the Gondorian army. For cowardice, forswearing of oath and near treason…" Then his voice grew quieter "You will never hold a position again as long as I live." He turned away leaving the captain stunned, glancing back to his men who edged away as if to dissociate themselves from a traitor. Then the man fell to his knees, grabbing for Aragorn's clothes

"Please Sire, I have a wife, two young boys… they rely on my wages… How do I explain it to them?"

"How old are your boys?" Elrond started as Arwen spoke from his side, her voice quite steady despite the obvious tear tracks down her face.

The light suddenly rekindling in the Captain's eyes informed Elrond that he'd heard how Arwen's benevolence changed Aragorn's mind occasionally. "One is eight and the other ten, My Lady."

She nodded "And do they enjoy playing with friends? Does their mother love them above all else?"

"Yes My Lady."

"Then this is what you shall tell you boys and your wife; 'Through my negligence of duty I have deprived a boy younger than yourself of protection, of the freedom to play and learn as you do, I have deprived a mother of her only child, a father of his precious son, a grandfather of the light of his eyes… I did all this because I preferred to be safe rather than fight for my Prince'." Arwen drew a shuddering breath, but to all but Elrond and Aragorn, appeared quite composed and steady "That is what you shall tell them" Her voice grew hard "Now get out, before I call the guards and have you locked away."

Whimpering the Captain slunk backwards, his pleading eyes apparently seeking reconciliation and forgiveness. He found none, even in his own men.

* * *

When he was gone Elrond spoke, needing to know both sides of the story, sensing that not everyone stood with the Captain "Lieutenant, twice now you have, though non-verbally made it clear there is a difference in opinion between you and your formerly senior officer. Please speak…" Despite his efforts the final two words came out in something close to a desperate beg, his voice cracking as reality began to be absorbed by his brain. He shut his eyes, trying to block, or at least restrain the pain.

_Dari is missing… gone… perhaps- _

The lieutenant began to speak, mercifully jolting him out of the blackness before the thought could be completed

With a great effort he opened his eyes and forced them to focus on the man, suddenly recognising him as the one who had borne Thranduil's letter; Baran.

"The attack was sudden Sire, I'll allow that. But we had some warning, the horses were restless, baulking." He shook his head "We thought they were just being stubborn, wanting to go back to their stables… so we paid no attention. Then there was a great crashing and they, the orcs, burst out on us. It was chaos, the horses were rearing, screaming and whirling. So much was happening that it was hard to fight, you didn't want to swipe at an orc and end up hitting your fellow instead." Elrond, noticed in an almost detached way that the man shut his own eyes briefly before carrying on "Everyone was shouting, trying to keep contact in the noise, Captain…" He flushed and murmured an apology which Aragorn brushed aside with a gesture "Captain was bellowing orders _'Regroup'_, _'form up'_, things like that. I do remember hearing a younger voice yelling for help, but it didn't register that it was the Prince, not then… He was using the common tongue you see, not Sindarin or Quenya and couple of the lads aren't much beyond voice-break, so I thought it was one of them. It was only when we pulled clear and Maecheneb saw Hasufel in the distance bolting for home without a rider that we realised it was the Prince who had shouted out."

"Why did you take so long to return, even though your horses were mounted heavily compared to Hasufel? A scout said you rode hard up to the 5th level?" Elrond frowned, even though he had an idea of the answer

"We argued. Captain wanted to return and bring the news in immediately, I argued to either all trail the orcs or split the group as Your Majesty suggested… He threatened us all with court-martial for disobedience to superior orders." Baran dropped his head "I should have done it anyway and damned the consequences, but I was scared, for myself and the others…"

Finally Aragorn spoke raising his head from the contemplation of his hands as he sat on the throne, his voice confused "Why were you scared? am I not your commanding officer in chief, would I not reward you for attempting to rescue my son?"

"Captain is friends with Lord Arnubên Sire, most of us have homes and families under his tenancy outside the city jurisdictions… We knew if we didn't follow orders our other livelihoods; craft or farming, would be destroyed…" Baran dropped to his knees as the other man had done before him "Sire, forgive us for that weakness and if you can't then at least let us return and attempt to track your son's captors."

"Baran" Aragorn's voice was gentle "Stand up." The man did so, his face a picture of remorse. "You are tired, the men are tired. I would not ask exhausted men to carry on a search when there are fresh."

"It is my fault that such a search is needed Sire, at least let me try."

"On one condition" A flicker of the old kingly grace was returning to Aragorn's voice. Slowly, like an old man, he rose from the chair, walking to Baran and holding out the rank badge "You accept the place of captain of this troop."

Baran shook his head "I thank you sire, but I refuse…"

"And I insist"

"I refuse until the boy is found, if I were to take the rank now and we fail, I couldn't live with myself."

Aragorn nodded "_Le channon o guren_…Go with goodwill"

Baran bowed and strode out of the hall with the rest of the soldiers at his heels.

* * *

Even as Aragorn drew a shaky breath a door to the side opened and Elboron trotted in, his eyes bright and hopeful. Within seconds that look gave way to confusion

"Where's Dari?" The boy's voice was plaintive, hopeful "Can I play with him?"

Aragorn looked over to the child and Elrond saw a spasm of pain on his face

"Dari hasn't come home yet Elboron"

"Oh" The look of hope and happiness gave way to confusion.

It was Arwen who finished what her husband had begun, stepping up to his side and speaking gently to the boy

"Run along home now, your mother will be wondering… When Dari returns we'll send him to find you"

With a twinkling eye and light step, so opposite to the mood of the main room, Elboron left, shutting the door carefully behind him.

As the click of the latch dropping sounded, Elrond saw Aragorn's ceremonial courtesy, which to his credit had shivered only a few times during his discussion with Baran, physically snap. He could only stand helpless as his foster and heart son crumpled to the floor, head in his hands and his shoulders shaking with sobs. And when Aragorn looked up at him, drawing Arwen so close for comfort that they were almost one entity, he had to break his gaze. The emotion in those grey eyes, so like Elros's, was too raw, too open. Unable to be of any comfort to either of them he slipped away, silently hoping that work would at least push the ache in his fëa to the back of his mind.

* * *

But in a busyness drawn from grief, tidying his desk like a whirlwind, he came across one book. It was only a little thing, roughly bound with a name written in tentative neatly inked Quenya. But it was enough. As his fingers brushed over the writing one word slipped from his lips

"_Dunelig_"

He shut his eyes, scooping the book up and holding it close, as if this reminder could physically return his grandson to his side. Slowly he sank into the chair, feeling the tears run down his cheeks

"_Dunelig_" His voice cracked but he tilted his head back, looking out the window to the sky as the stars appeared "_Am man te vammen, Elbereth? Te iôn vîw!__"_ But there was no answer to his desperate question, no reassurance that all would be well. Instead all there was was a room, with schooling books laying in a haphazard pattern, the half-hearted complaints against Quenya that had daily filled it not even echoing… It was empty.

Finally, realising the battle was futile, Elrond gave into despair, releasing the latches on doors so deep in his soul he hadn't known they'd existed… lost, feeling as though he was being torn into pieces, the eldest of the Peredhil simply cried.

* * *

**Translations**

**_Le channon o guren=_ Thank you from my heart**

**_Am man te vammen, Elbereth? Te iôn vîw! =_ Why was he taken Elbereth? He is just a little boy**

**Reviews, please?**


	31. Círdan

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Zammy_ and _Blade Draco_ for reviewing**

**Enjoy the chapter **

* * *

Círdan stared as he disembarked the boat that had bought him along the Anduin to Minas Tirith. The city looked so bland. Last time he'd been here the plants had been blooming, the flags flying. Despite the damage still evident in many of the structures then, it had been vibrant, like Vingilótë when she strained her moorings in an attempt to sail the oceans alone.

In the streets it was no better. Every head was bowed, the few people hurrying to their own task, only pausing to sweep their eyes occasionally with a hand. What flags there were dangled at half mast, not even bothering to shift in the light breeze. He shivered, remembering the ruins of Sírion, understanding that one day Mithlond would be like this. Finally as his stallion cleared the ramp up into the court of the tree, itself drooping and weak, he found the word to describe it all.

Dead.

* * *

Half glancing out to the pinnacle where two figures stood silhouetted he was distracted by a figure approaching. Immediately he recognised the Steward, Faramir. Swiftly he dismounted, allowing the man to lead him away, out of earshot.

"Lord Círdan, my thanks for you arriving so swiftly."

He nodded his head, indicating with a look that such formality was not required "What has happened?"

Well… nothing, and that's half the problem. For days now the scouts have been arriving back, but they have found nothing near the attack site."

"Have they followed the trail?"

"Yes, but even the best of my rangers lose it when it reaches rocks" Faramir sighed "They could be anywhere. One thing is certain, Eldarion hadn't been hurt immediately after his capture, there are no blood drops on the trail."

"Small mercy"

The Steward half shrugged "I'll accept it, for I dread to think what it would be like here if worse news came."

Círdan gave him a sharp look "Is it that bad?"

Slowly, with an almost palpable reluctance, Faramir nodded "Arwen's like a ghost, it's a good day if she even leaves the royal chambers. The rest of the time she just sits on her bed, staring blankly at the wall with tears running down her cheeks… Aragorn…" He shook his head "He's basically the same, he does at least attend the council meetings but I don't think he actually hears anything except when some fool starts to mention the idea of designating a new heir." The Steward raised his head to lock his eyes with Círdan's "And when that happens, all of Mordor breaks loose."

"And Elrond? How's he taken this?" Círdan forced himself to keep any sharpness out of his voice, none of this was Faramir's fault.

"I don't really know, he doesn't weep but… in a way I wish he would. I wish there would be just one crack in that icy mask he's wearing, one hint to show that he's still living." Faramir tilted his head sideways "He's out there on the pinnacle day after day, come rain or shine. Always looking, waiting…" The despair in the Steward's voice was obvious "And he never speaks, just occasionally takes half a step closer to the edge… I put a watcher on him for all hours when he got too close. I don't believe that Elrond would do something like that, but this isn't Elrond anymore. He's just a shell."

Círdan nodded "I will speak to him, see if I can break this, mask."

He saw Faramir's shoulders sag with relief and noted tears in the Steward's eyes "Thank you… Thank you so much."

* * *

Elrond didn't move as he approached. Gently he reached out and touched the half-elf's arm.

"Elrond?"

There was no reaction and he began to see the truth of Faramir's description. However, realising that he owed it as much to Eärendil as to Faramir, he persisted, stepping up next to Elrond and continuing to speak, though switching from the Common Tongue to his more natural Sindarin

"Why have you not joined the search parties? Surely that would be more productive than simply standing here day after day?"

The answer was quiet and hoarse "I fear what I would find…"

"Surely Eldarion is more likely to come out from his hiding place if he hears you calling."

The half-elf shook his head, a quick painful jerk "No… What I would find would be his body, mutilated… I saw it in my dreams after he was taken, every night… always the same."

"Foresight?"

Finally Elrond looked at him. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken and blank "How can I know? All I know is what I see…" He turned back to the Pelennor "And I see his death. If Eldarion dies there is nothing here for me."

"Nothing?" Círdan challenged "What about Aragorn and Arwen?" Elrond ignored him. Something, the despair and overwork he had seen etched in Faramir's face, Elrond's behaviour, the state of the city, made him snap. He grasped the half-elf's robes and swung him so they were face to face "Now you just pay attention to me Eärendilion, do you know why there is a guard constantly within arms-length of you?"

Elrond shook his head

"Faramir fears you will walk to the edge of the pinnacle… and just keep walking"

"What?"

He relaxed slightly, something of the normal Elrond seemed to reappear with that shocked exclamation "I speak the truth Elrond… Do you realise what it would do to Aragorn and Arwen if you did that? What would happen to Gondor? To Faramir…" He forced the frightened elf to look at him "Elrond, with Aragorn and Arwen as they are Faramir is basically ruling Gondor… He's nearly on his knees from trying." He paused and drew breath, aware of the stares of the guards around the tree

"I didn't realise" Elrond's voice was quiet and choked, but more normal.

"You didn't think" He watched as the half-elf shook his head slowly in confession "They need you Elrond, more than ever before… Aragorn needs you… The people of Westernesse need you"

Slowly he saw Elrond nod, looking back to the great hall "I have been an idiot."

Círdan smiled "No little one, not an idiot, not in the sense you mean it, merely lost in grief, grief deeper than any you've ever known before, even for Elros…" He tilted his head back to the buildings "Faramir says the council is rumbling, perhaps it would be good if you joined the battle to even up the odds." He watched his youngest fosterling stride off. Then the half-elf paused and turned back.

"Círdan, thank you, for rescuing me."

He inclined his head in silent answer, a small smile gracing his lips.

* * *

**Vingilótë was Eärendil's ship.**

**Review please**


	32. In the Council

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Zammy_ and _Blade Draco_ for reviewing.**

**Enjoy the chapter, it was good to write**

* * *

As the clamour in the hall rose again Elrond shut his eyes. It had been a week since Círdan had roused him out of the bitter torpor he'd been in. And almost every day he felt willing to slip back in. It was only for Elros's sake that he forced himself to keep going. Slowly he raised his head to look over the council. As usual it was Arnubên who was making a din, furiously berating Imrahil and some of the other lords over an apparent redirection of commodities. With a sigh he looked over at Faramir who nodded and rose to his feet.

"Lord Arnubên, if you wish to carry this debate further it must be at another time and with better manners"

The lord turned to face the Steward "You keep your nose out youngling, this is none of your business"

Prince Imrahil hissed in anger, lifting his head and apparently preparing to move forward from his place by the table. For a moment Elrond saw a different man standing in front of him, a man he had known ages previously. Then the image was gone, broken by Faramir's reply.

"I'll thank you to remember _Lord_ Arnubên that _I_ am the King's Steward, and as such I outrank you."

Arnubên sneered "King's Steward are you? Well if you're the King's Steward and second in command, then get him to name his new heir…" He stopped midsentence, eyes widening in fear even as they hardened in anticipation of a challenge.

Elrond sprang to his feet, grabbing hold of Aragorn as the man bounded down the steps towards Arnubên. Faramir also leapt up, securing a firm hold on his king's sword hand. Aragorn fought them both, attempting to wrench himself free from their hold while shouting at the offending noble

"How dare you Arnubên, you of all people! How dare you speak so callously of your Prince's abduction! _Ci orch 'waur!"_

"_No dhínen Estel" _Elrond attempted to quiet him, then almost recoiled from the venomous glare he was given.

Imrahil, apparently the only one immune to the currents of feeling in the hall, spoke calmly "Lord Arnubên, remove yourself from this hall" It was only when the other lord ignored him that the Prince of Dol Amroth became curt "That was an order." He turned to the other nobles "Council dismissed"

They obeyed quickly and quietly, a few with nervous glances in the direction of the dais.

* * *

When only the four of them remained Aragorn wrenched himself free of the restraining hands, turning his anger on his foster-father and Steward "Why did you stop me? He deserved to be hurt."

"I'll not deny that Sire, in fact I'd be the last to" Imrahil spoke softly from behind him, grey eyes placatory as the burning brown gaze met them "But to attack him in front of the council, even though many share your opinion to the last grain… It would mark you as vicious and vindictive."

"And do I not have a right to be angry with a man who, directly or indirectly, has had a hand in my son's abduction?"

With a sigh Imrahil tilted his head in concession. Aragorn turned back to Faramir and Elrond, who also nodded. Elrond however went further and reached out a hand to him.

"Estel…"

He jerked away, snarling "Leave me be" Turning his back on them he strode out, missing the flash of fear in Faramir's eyes and the shock in Elrond's.

* * *

As the door slammed behind Aragorn, Elrond, Faramir and Imrahil exchanged shocked and nervous glances.

"What do we do now?" None of them were exactly sure which one spoke what they all thought

Faramir shrugged and looked to Elrond "I don't know… I however shall go and keep Arwen company for a while."

Elrond tilted his head in acceptance of the idea, glancing at Imrahil, who also made his excuses and left.

Alone now, Elrond slowly turned back to the door, his eyes sad "_Manna lendetye, Estel? Man ettelëa sina i ná tyesse? Sáven i nétye yondo Elerosseva, ananta cenin er Isildur. Masse yondo i alanten? Masse nér i Arwende mele? Man ná carna tyen, Estel?"_

* * *

Aragorn stood by the railing, looking out from the side of the King's House over the city. Looking, but not seeing. For him there was nothing to see, not when all his eyes strained to glimpse was a small boy, scampering through the streets in the middle of mischief... when his ears listened for a child's laughing voice.

They heard the door creek open, soft footfalls of someone running across the stone floor… nothing… and then one word.

* * *

**Translation**

**Sindarin**

**_Ci orch 'waur!_= You are a dirty orc**

**_No dhínen Estel=_ Be silent Estel**

**Quenya**

**_"Manna lendetye, Estel? Man ettelëa sina i ná tyesse? Sáven i nétye yondo Elerosseva, ananta cenin er Isildur. Masse yondo i alanten? Masse nér i Arwende mele? Man ná carna tyen, Estel?" = _****"Where have you gone Estel? Who is this stranger in your place? I thought you Elros's son, but I see only Isildur. Where is the boy I fostered? Where is the man Arwen loves? What has happened to you, Estel?"**

**Thank you very much to _Dreamingfifi_ for that translation. **

**Reviews?**


	33. Many Reunions

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Zammy_ and _Blade Draco_ for reviewing. **

**Sorry for the long gap, especially following a cliff-hanger, but life has been getting in the way and this chapter turned out to be fiddly to write.**

**Enjoy it**

* * *

"_Adar_"

He turned automatically to see what was wanted. Then his eyes registered what they saw.

Eldarion.

Eldarion, racing across the last few metres of floor before the steps, his arms stretched out as if he wished to fly.

In one leaping stride he was down the steps, crouching to sweep his son up into the air. As he turned he raised Eldarion high above his head, their eyes meeting. His son's were bright with joy, he knew his own were hiding tears. Then he lowered his arms, pressing a kiss to his laughing son's cheek but unable to find words to express his feelings. A laughing smile from Eldarion was all he needed to know his son understood.

Then he saw the boy's attention shift from him to something behind him. He turned his head to see a cloaked figure standing by one of the final pillars before the door. Crouching he set Eldarion down, then beckoned "Come forward, you have nothing to fear."

"I do not fear Sir…"

Aragorn frowned, something in that voice was familiar, more than just the Gondorian inflection. "Then why do you not come forward?"

"I have no reason to"

He heard Eldarion giggle and sensed a glare shooting out from under the cloak to his son.

"And as for you _Banakil, _you might have told me who you were."

"I did"

"No you didn't"

Still puzzling over the voice Aragorn stepped forward placing a hand on his son's shoulder "Whether you knew my son's identity or not, I am grateful beyond telling for his return." He gestured with his free hand "Please, name your reward"

The man shook his head, still under the hood "I want no reward, it is enough to know the boy is safe."

"You have done what no other has managed, I insist you must have something."

Again, my king, I wish nothing"

Aragorn recognised this was falling into the traditional pattern of bargaining and paused briefly to address his son in Sindarin "Go on Dari, go and find your mother"

With a wide grin, the boy scampered away, pausing only to give a childish half-wink to the cloaked figure. Aragorn shook his head as he laughed and gave an apologetic half shrug to his companion, who sighed in response.

"Children"

Aragorn nodded, looking after his son "A nuisance and a joy. But I wouldn't lose him again if it afforded me all the gifts of the Eldar." The he turned back to face the other man "Now my friend, it seems we were in the beginning of negotiation…" He smiled as hooded figure groaned

"I've told you sire, I wish for nothing"

Now it was his turn to sigh.

* * *

"I'll take over"

Éowyn lifted her head from her poor stitchery to see Faramir standing in the doorway. Silently she nodded and rose to her feet, glancing at the lady sitting on the bed before slipping out past him. As their arms brushed he caught hers in a light grasp

"Any change?"

She shook her head "Not unless you count the fact her eyes have gone even blanker and she's run out of tears to cry."

Faramir sighed, murmuring something in a tongue she didn't know. Then he released her arm, lightly running one finger over her cheek. "Go home and have fun, if you can, Éowyn … I'll see you later."

She stretched up to kiss him then slowly walked away, casting one last glance back at Arwen.

"Queen Arwen? Your Majesty? Lady?"

There was no response. Faramir sat down in the chair Éowyn had recently vacated, gazing at his queen "Why Lady, why do you shut yourself away from those who want to aid you? You remind me of my mother, fading away…" He checked and swallowed, banishing the remainder of that thought before he cried. Arwen didn't even seem to blink.

* * *

Humming. Someone was humming. Faramir turned his head towards the door, resting one hand on his sword hilt and ready to leap to his feet. Then he hesitated, hearing the beat of the hummer's steps. Whoever it was, they were skipping, and making up a tune to go with their steps. As it got closer he prepared to challenge anyway, it seemed almost too innocent. Before he could move the skipper had bounced through the door way and sprung up onto the bed, reaching out to Arwen.

"_Naneth_"

As Faramir watched she turned, blinking, reaching out a hand "_Ambarahyo?_" Her voice was quiet, hoarse. Eldarion wriggled onto her lap, leaning close as she embraced him, rocking gently "_Ambarahyo, Ioneg… Ambarahyo_."

With a smile Faramir watched them, his eyes dampening as Arwen rose to her feet, eyes glowing, with her son stood close beside her. He bowed as her eyes fell on him "My lady"

She tilted her head in acknowledgement of the salute "Faramir" Then her eyes glinted "If you know where my father is, do take Eldarion along."

He nodded "Certainly my lady, and I believe the king is in the great hall, if you wish to find him… while Lord Elrond is probably buried in the old Record stores." As he finished he glanced at Eldarion, or rather, where Eldarion had been standing moments before. Arwen's laugh rang out and he turned back to see her shaking her head

"I hope my father is ready for a surprise."

* * *

Wearily Elrond turned the pages of the leather-bound tome he had set himself to study. It was one of the interesting ones, as far as old records went, written by Anárion in the years leading up to the alliance. Ordinarily he might have enjoyed it, but now his brain refused to recognise the words, except occasionally when it noted Elendil. And that was merely because it bore a cruel resemblance to Elendili, which he had been reading about the day Dari vanished. Finally he shook his head and closed the book, it was pointless continuing, no information was going in.

The door swung open, shuddering briefly as it slamed into the wall. He automatically placed a hand on his belt, seeking a sword that wasn't there.

"_Nîdh!"_

The sharp exclamation froze him briefly as he rose to his feet. Then, after some thumping and clattering, a familiar head appeared around the shelf.

He simply stared. The boy didn't look too untidy, enough to pass as a page. But his clothes weren't page issue, they were too fine, and a different style. It was only instinct that made him grab the boy as he sprang forwards

But instinct was enough_ "Gwannas lû and Dunelig" _He ruffled his grandson's hair, only to find his fingers were stirring up dust that made them both sneeze. Smiling he caught the boy's eye "I presume it was you who crashed into the shelves?"

* * *

Eldarion smiled "Who else is here?" He felt like singing, to speak Sindarin for the first time in weeks. Then he ducked as his grandfather shifted his grip to cuff him lightly

"Don't be cheeky… or else your Quenya lesson will be twice as long "

He simply held the older elf's gaze, using his most pleading voice "Grandfather, that's not fair"

* * *

Elrond smiled "You're too easy to tease little one." With easy strides he abandoned the records and walked back up the corridor and steps, Dari easily carried at his side. Both blinked as the sun of the courtyard hit their eyes and he felt his grandson turn his head into the robes, away from the glare. Such a little movement, but he held his grandson close for a long moment before releasing him and setting him on the ground "Your father promised Elboron that you would go and play with him when you returned, I suggest you keep that promise."

Eldarion hesitated momentarily, holding his gaze for a final nod before trotting across the court in the direction of the Steward's house. Elrond stood and watched until he was out of sight, a small smile on his lips. The hesitation had spoken more eloquently than anything else could.

* * *

So it was with a light heart that he approached the arbour hall. Waiting only to confirm that Aragorn and the rescuer were still there, he stepped inside on the tail of an argument.

"Name your reward, I am tired of this denial. You may have anything within my power to give."

He saw Aragorn frowned at the kneeling figure, who finally seemed to shrug in acquiescence

"Then, as you force me into a corner, might I ask you for a saddle to fit my horse?"

"A saddle?"

"I lost the old one when I rescued the lad, and I'm not too keen on bareback, especially not after two weeks of it."

Even as he smiled Elrond puzzled over the voice. Glancing over to Aragorn he could tell his foster son had been on the same line of thought for a while. Finally the king spoke

"Who are you, friend?"

Something in the intonation made the stranger's head go up. Slowly he climbed to his feet and pushed back his hood to reveal mousy hair and sharp grey eyes, all set over strong, authoritative, warrior shoulders.

There was a sharp intake of breath throughout the room. Blinking briefly Elrond raised his voice slightly, knowing a page would be within easy earshot "Fetch the steward please…"

"But leave him outside the door… Tell him I wish for independent ears to hear a story, without the bias of seeing the speaker" Aragorn finished. Sure enough there was the sound of a pair of feet running off.

A short while later they returned, accompanied by a second set that were discernable as Faramir's. Waiting until the page had left again Aragorn stepped up to one of the pillars, resting a hand against it

"Now… do tell us your story, from the beginning."

* * *

**Any guesses as to who it is?**

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Ioneg_ = My son (diminutive)**

**_Nîdh= _Ouch**

**_Gwannas lû and _=It has been too long**

**Adûnaic**

**_Banakil_= Hobbit**

**Reviews please, we're nearly at 100**


	34. The Tale

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Blade Draco_ and _gginsc_ for reviewing. **

**I'm not going to completely apologise for the length of time this chapter took as it had to be tweaked several times to get it right.**

**Anyway, enjoy it**

**AN; in the recounted story all speech is marked ' '. Outside speech is marked as normal **

* * *

The man bowed slightly "Not that there's much to tell, Sire. But I'll recount it for the sake of records." He straightened, meeting Aragorn's eyes, took a deep breath and began.

* * *

"The first thing I remember is a scraping sound, the boat being dragged onto ground, and someone, who sounded like Mithrandir telling me to wake up and be useful . That was confusing enough, until the boat suddenly tipped and I fell out, woke me up though." He chucked "When I actually shook myself awake I saw Mithrandir standing over me looking stern.

'Well, are you just going to lie there?' he said

'You're dead, I'm dead.'

'I should hope not' Then he turned away, glancing over his shoulder at me. The command to follow was inherent. I turned back to the boat to retrieve my things, then noticed Mithrandir was already carrying then over his back.

When I caught up with him it was in a small copse just off the coast. Finally I backed him against a tree, determined for answers

'What is happening Mithrandir? I saw you fall into the chasm with the Balrog, no man could survive that.'

'I did not survive… I was sent back' He looked at me, straight in the eyes 'Look at me, son of Gondor, look at me'

As bidden I stepped back and looked. Then I realised what he meant. His robes were no longer the tatty grey ones I remembered 'White'

He nodded, smiling at my confusion 'Yes, Gandalf the White, that is who I am now, on this side of the Straight Road.'

I met his eyes, and I admit I was scared 'What of me? Why was I sent back?'

He seemed quite unsurprised by my challenge 'You weren't'

That confused me, and it must have shown in my face

'The arrows that struck were not mortal, though they were nearly so. Instead the poison sent you into a deathlike sleep, one perhaps only the best of Elven healers would have recognised as not death itself… I retrieved you from the water, healing you as I may, for you have more paths to travel.'

'How long? How long has it been?'

'Three years by the reckoning of men'

'Three years…' I looked away, trying to master my thoughts, to know what I must ask at once and what could be found out. Then I looked back to Gandalf 'What of my brother?'

He put on the face he uses when he is not telling you everything 'Well…'

He must have seen the thought even as it flashed through my mind 'But you cannot return home, not yet.' I was ready to protest when he placed a hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes 'You must stay away from notice and wait, there's a horse on the edge of the copse to aid your travel, wait patiently son of Gondor… Your companion will find you.'

I nodded, resigned 'How will I know my companion?'

Gandalf had set down my things while I was digesting what he'd said, he was already walking away 'You won't, until afterwards.'"

* * *

Aragorn chuckled "That sounds like Gandalf, always speaking riddles and never truly answering them." He shook his head "Forgive me… Go on."

"I spent close to a decade wandering the wilder lands, though always in the southern part of Arda, and for some reason, often close to Amon Hen.

Then two weeks ago, more or less, I heard orcs.

They were squabbling over what to do with a prisoner, whether to kill him there and leave his body for what they called "Green Cloaks" to find, or move on further before they did that, perhaps take him to the mountains. By that time I'd crept closer, and could see what they were doing. I saw one of them grab something white and pull at it, snarling. Then I realised the white thing was a person, the prisoner they'd mentioned.

The orc sneered at it "Well halfling one, what do you think we should do with you?"

I snapped, and charged them almost before my brain realised what my body was doing. I've never fought that madly, all I saw was orcs, falling charging, dying under my sword. Perhaps there were more than I'd noticed, for even as I fought more seemed to come… The first chance I got I shouted for Karbazîr, grabbed the lad and rode away from there as though the wolves of Morgoth were after me" He smiled wryly "It was only when we slowed down that I remembered unsaddling Kar before I heard the orcs, not that something like a saddle really mattered.

We travelled until dusk then camped on the riverbank. Survival told me to keep going but the boy was half asleep and I wasn't much better. Still, between us Kar and I kept the watches through the night as best we could. When dawn broke I didn't even rouse the boy, just picked him up as he was, wrapped up in my cloak, and put him on the horse. He woke up around noon, when I'd stopped to listen for any pursuit

'Who are you?'

I turned to see him looking down at me, eyes wide with apprehension and fear

'A friend _Perian_, a frind'

The fear vanished to be replaced by an annoyed look 'I'm not a hobbit.'

I smiled, willing to tease him a little, given what I knew of Hobbits 'Do you take offence at being associated with a most valiant race, little one?"

He frowned at me 'No, but the Shire is the other end of Arda to my home.'

'Where is home? I must be able to take you there, to take you back to your family.'

He shrugged "Minas Tirith would do well enough, if my parents aren't there, there are friends I could stay with until they return."

I raised an eyebrow at him even as I smiled slightly 'Bit sure of yourself aren't you lad?'

He turned the tables, to my surprise "Who are you? Where are you from?'

And, partly due to the fact I was startled I answered him honestly 'I have no home little one…'

'And your name?'

'Abrazimir, that is what the Númenóreans would have called me'

The boy sighed 'That's too much of a mouthful, can I call you Zimir?'

I caught his eye 'Only if you tell me your name.'

Finally he grinned at me, with a glint that I now recognise as mischief, after two weeks of seeing it 'Everyone calls me Dari.'

* * *

I'll spare you an account of our travels to here, my lords, for they are frankly boring, save for the fact I saw no rangers as we passed Cair Andros, most unusual." He shrugged "But perhaps I dodged them… Either way, there is no intended criticism of the captain."

Aragorn inclined his head briefly "I thank you for that."

Elrond, who had listened silently through the entire account now spoke "How did you enter the city unnoticed, the guards must have asked to see your face?"

For answer the man gestured to his clothes "Though mostly this style is worn by nobles, some of it could be identified as belonging to a prosperous merchant, and as the Summer Festival starts tomorrow, well it was a gift of a cover story." Then he chuckled, though not unkindly, at the bemused looks shared by his three questioners "I'm presuming you lost track of time while the boy was missing."

Elrond half tilted his head, though his eyes warned that the man was close to a dangerous point "It would seem so…" He met the man's gaze "So you're telling me that you managed to get up onto the seventh level by pretending to be a merchant?" His tone was somewhere between sarcastic and disbelieving.

His opponent didn't seem too surprised "I told the guards that my apprentice and I had a meeting with Lord Arnubên over non-payment for a job, they were quite willing to let us through."

Elrond gave a wry, slightly bitter, smile "You couldn't have used a better pretext. Arnubên is… not exactly in favour at the moment."

He ignored the _'Should you be mentioning that?'_ look Aragorn shot him, favouring his foster son with a half-wink to show he knew what he was doing. With a warning flash in the eyes that was so like Elros it made him jump, Aragorn turned away and left the room with long easy strides.

* * *

"Well Faramir?" The king dropped his voice to a whisper.

He nodded "It's plausible, and I can't think how someone would manage to invent a story like that. Besides he spoke easily, not a hint of recitation in his voice… and Eldarion could corroborate the facts of his rescue."

"And avoiding the Rangers?"

He saw Aragorn's questioning eyes "They will have reached Amon Hen only a few days ago." He bit his lip and the king put a hand on his shoulder

"Worry not Faramir, you sent the parties out to all other places. The Emyn Muil are disorientating, even for orcs so I understand why you didn't believe they'd go there."

"And there's the Dead Marshes too Sire, we avoid them if we can."

"You're right too" The fervency in Aragorn's voice surprised him, but the other man's face was carefully expressionless "I'll explain why another time…" His tone changed to one more likely to carry "Thank you for your opinion Steward." Then silently he signed that Faramir was to wait for a call before entering.

The door closed behind Aragorn and Faramir leant against it, closing his eyes. The voice that had spoken threatened to make his head split as hope and grief warred over his mind. He pressed his fingers to his temples, then swallowed hard.

* * *

"Faramir, would you join us please?" It was Elrond's voice, carrying but gentle.

Straightening up he opened the door and walked in, hoping he looked more like a competent and calm Steward than he felt. He'd only taken three strides into the room when he froze, staring at what… who faced him. He saw the same mousy hair, grey eyes and strong face and jaw that the others had seen. The eyes smiled in a way he knew, and the face carried a slight, very gentle smile, accompanying the laughing, kind words.

"Remember me, little brother?"

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Perian=_ Hobbit**

**Three more reviews to get to 100, please send them in.**


	35. Háno

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Zammy, gginsc, Blade Draco, Greenscarfgirl, CosPalp, Glory Bee, _, and anonymous _lilio_ for reviewing. There's certainly a lot of you. **

**Well done to _gginsc_ for being the 100th reviewer.**

**Perhaps I'll wait this long to post the next chapter every time.**

**Anyway, ENJOY!**

* * *

He leapt forward, slamming in Boromir's chest and nearly knocking him down. Even as his brother staggered he clung to him, clung with a desperation borne of loss

"I thought I'd lost you" It came out in a choking whisper, accompanied by the start of tears. He felt Boromir's arms around him, holding him equally close

The soothing whisper came back "I'm here now, little brother… I won't disappear like that again."

They stood together in the embrace for a long moment, each letting their tears fall, occasionally tightening or shifting a grip. Finally Faramir let go and stepped back, hands on his brother's shoulders.

"You've changed."

Boromir frowned at him, apparently worried "Have I?"

Faramir grinned, revealing that he was teasing "You look more like you were just after I came of age, before the Darkness enfolded us. Before you were forced into so much responsibility."

Boromir smiled back "Your eyes are glinting again, you've grown younger too…" Then he paused and Faramir saw a slightly wicked curl to the smile "If that's possible, little brother."

Eyes snapping with mock anger Faramir delivered a well-aimed thump to his brother's shoulder "Mind your manners Denethorion, you hold no rank here."

Boromir laughed "And glad about it"

As stern as he had attempted to seem Faramir found himself chuckling too "I take back my comment, you haven't changed one jot _háno_…" He stepped slightly further away and made to lead his brother out of the room. Then something caught his eye and he changed direction, walking over to a table tucked against the wall. On it sat a leather coin bag and a note. On reading it he started to laugh again

"What is it?

Faramir tied the pouch to his belt and passed the note to his brother. Boromir scanned it quickly and smiled at him "Shall we then, obey the king and enjoy ourselves this evening, I seem to recall _The Beacon_ had good ale if it still stands."

"It does… But first I want you to come with me."

* * *

He half expected an argument from the rough soldier and hobbit-like sides of his brother. But Boromir followed his lead without complaint, flipping his hood over his face as they left the room and staying half a step behind him. Only once did he stop and after glancing back Faramir paused too. Boromir was staring up at the white tree, at present laden with flowers. He was silent and Faramir couldn't see his face due to the hood. Not even his ranger training of body language gave him an insight into his brother's mind. The stance was the blank one of a well-trained solider, immune to all scrutiny. But one small word, in Adûnaic , escaped

"_Aglâr"_

_Glory_ Faramir nodded to himself, it was that indeed.

Eventually his brother shifted slightly and he took that as a signal that they could move on. With long easy strides he crossed the courtyard and opened the door of a building at the side. Then he glanced back to his brother.

"Come inside"

* * *

'Inside' was a wood panelled hall with doors leading off it and a staircase winding up to other levels. Faramir barely waited until the door was shut before calling out/

"Anybody home?"

A distant answer came from beyond several doors. They waited and after a moment Éowyn appeared, dusting flour off her hands onto an equally floury apron.

Faramir frowned slightly "Have you been baking?"

She met his gaze, eyes warm "Helping… Cook won't trust me with a bowl and spoon" Then her voice became whip sharp "And don't say a word."

"I wasn't going to" He whirled at a stifled snort "You're not helping."

Boromir pushed off his hood, revealing dancing eyes again, and a wide grin "Have I ever?"

Both spoke at once "No"

To her husband's enquiring glance Éowyn shrugged "I haven't forgotten being jumped out on and nearly falling in the water trough."

"That was years ago… besides I apologised."

Boromir looked injured, but his order of words made Faramir chuckle

Éowyn lifted her head "Captain-General of Gondor you may be now, but it wasn't Captainly behaviour then."

Faramir broke in before an argument could start, glancing around as he realised someone was missing "Where's Elboron?"

"One whirlwind came in, two ran out" was Éowyn's cryptic answer

He nodded then tapped his brother on the shoulder "Come on, you trouble maker."

Éowyn embraced him briefly, an action apparently friendly to any onlooker. However the voice that whispered in his ear was over-sweet.

"If you come back drunk you're sleeping on the floorboards tonight."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead in acknowledgement "My shield-maiden." Then he danced away to avoid a swat "I'll send Elboron and Eldarion in if I see them"

Her call carried down the corridor "I wouldn't, Cook will skin them for stealing the honey cakes."

* * *

The door swung shut and they both laughed, Boromir tipping his head back and letting it ring to the sky. The gesture was so familiar that Faramir swatted him, though on reflection he couldn't think why he'd done so. Perhaps because it brought back so many memories of playing together as youngsters, with Boromir always getting them into trouble, then celebrating his successful, though daft, escape with just such a laugh

"Put your hood up, quickly, unless you want to give half the nobles heart attacks thinking there's a ghost in the City."

"Some of them deserve it" Boromir gave a half shrug "Besides it would make life interesting."

Faramir barely prevented himself nodding to the first part, but held his brother's gaze in reprimand "Life here has already been fraught with fear brother, as you would do well to remember."

Some of the glint went out of Boromir's eyes and he bowed his head "I know, and I know that you faced more than I did. Yet we have survived, and your light shines brighter than ever."

Faramir ignored his brother's last comment and tug his hood up for him, pulling particularly hard in retribution.

* * *

The streets were crowded and the stone seemed to resound with the noise. Laugher, shouts, general chatter and the strident calls of sellers rang through the air. It was a seething mass of people, most still in dark clothes as they mourned for their Prince. Faramir hid a smile, weaving through gaps that immediately appeared as people noticed the white tree tooled on his leather jerkin. Occasionally he paused, to share a word with one of his rangers, or greet some of his household, out from Ithilien on a celebration jaunt.

* * *

Boromir watched the city as they walked. Every time his brother stopped he looked at those who he conversed with, seeking familiar features. When that became hopeless he started peering at the guards who passed, first for curiosity then with more desperation. Had none of his three companies survived the war?

A hand on his arm. He jumped slightly and met Faramir's eyes _Calm down_ the brown gaze begged him, as if he was a skittish horse. Slowly, with a great shuddering breath, he forced himself to relax. Then, with a childishly pleading, yet soothing look, his brother led him onwards.

* * *

**Translations**

_**Adûnaic**_

**_háno=_Brother**

**Reviews, please?**

**The next chapter won't be around for a while, I'm about to disappear under very important exams... **


	36. At The Beacon

**Thanks to_ Kaisaan_ _Greenleaf, __Glory Bee_, _gginsc_ and _Zammy _for reviewing. Exams are now done, cue cheers.**

**Enjoy this slightly, okay,_ rather_ silly chapter **

* * *

_The Beacon_ looked the same as ever and when Faramir pushed open the door Boromir caught the scent of meat roasting, no doubt over the great oak fireplace at one end of the Common Room. They slipped inside, the few people at the bar paying little attention to two traders with no wares. Quietly Boromir walked to one of the many empty tables and dropped into a seat.

"Here"

A wooden cup slid up against his resting arm and he nodded to his brother, taking a sip. Swallowing slowly he raised an eyebrow "Cider?" Then the tang of the pepper bit his throat while a warmth crept through him and he shook his head. "Sailor's posset"

"I thought you might like a taste of home."

He nodded slightly and smiled "Remember how Uncle used to let us have a cup the first night of our holiday, even when we were little… Father would have had a fit if he'd known we were allowed alcohol that young."

Faramir's eyes twinkled.

Bells began to peel out, all over the city by the various distances their ears picked up. Boromir fought the inclination to leap to his feet and go to the door, reminding himself that he was no longer a soldier of Gondor. Thankfully everyone else seemed just as startled. He watched as the innkeeper crossed the room and threw open the door

"Hi lad! What's afoot?"

The 'lad' came trotting in and Boromir saw Beregond's inheritance on his face.

"Bergil" Faramir whispered, leaning over the table so their heads were close "Son of Beregond."

Boromir nodded slightly, that confirmed his thoughts

"Well lad, why are all the bells ringing fit to call back Elendil?"

"The Prince is back"

There was a moment of stunned silence until one of the older men blinked "Dead eh?" His voice was slurred with drink.

"No" Bergil's tone rose to exultant joy "He's alive and well."

"_Bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb… _That boy has too much luck, no child should lead to the amount of trouble he has and get away with it."

Boromir stood up, rolling his shoulders so subtly he knew no-one but Faramir would notice. But it did its job, loosening the tight muscles as if for a bout of sparring "And what trouble has he caused?"

"Disappeared off on a jaunt, cost me my rank, my livelihood, and my wife." The man swung off his stool and stumped forward, thrusting his finger under Boromir's nose "Don' you tell me he's a good lad… or I'll knock' you one, trader." He threw his arms wide "I wa' 'nce a capain in the army, I was. Then the Prin' ran o' when him an' me were riding toge'er an' now look a' me. A commo' mercery, livi' on sufferan an' subjecte' t' abuse by a…a travelin' pack opener."

Boromir shifted his feet, automatically getting ready to fight.

"Now now my man" The innkeeper strode over "Let's not have a brawl on this happy, happy day." Still soothing, he grasped the man's shoulders and steered him out the door, slamming it shut with a resounding thump before slapping his hands together like a baker dusting off flour.

Applause smattered along the bar and Boromir quickly dropped back into his chair before the attention shifted.

The innkeeper turned and gave a mock bow to his audience. "Bring out the Lossarnach White!"

A cheer echoed to the rafters, one Boromir felt equaled that that the men in Osgiliath had given after their battle. As the room suddenly bustled with activity he was surprised to hear suppressed chuckles from Faramir. He surreptitiously tapped his brother on the shoulder and raised an eyebrow

"That is about the only useful thing that man's done recently…" Faramir shook his head "I'll tell you what happened another time."

A barrel being ceremoniously wedged steady on the bar attracted all eyes, those of most of the other patrons nearly falling from their sockets. Lossnarch wine was famous within Gondor as being the best of the best, and consequently extremely expensive. Boromir was pretty sure he could count the number of times that he and Faramir had drunk it, between them, on one hand. And they the sons of the Ruling Steward.

Cups were handed around and everyone queued up for theirs to be filled. While Boromir waited his turn he was amused to watch the reactions of the men in front of him. Generally they went to treat the wine in much the same way as they would their ale, quaffing it in gulps. However after one swallow they froze, looked down in wonder at their cup, back to the barrel and then took a second cautious sip. He smiled slightly and steadied his full cup while the second one was measured out. Nodding his thanks but keeping his gaze low he wove back through a growing crowd, apparently the whisper of Lossnarch White had spread out onto the street…

"Like horses when you rattle a feed bucket"

Faramir pointedly appropriated his cup "These people have been valiant, don't tease them so."

He shrugged in response and sat down, automatically shielding his face from curious eyes. Faramir touched his arm in concern and he shook his head, wanting to remember how gregarious he had once been, before the Ring had seized him. And through that exile of sorts which Gandalf had imposed upon him he had cursed himself for what he had done, risking all of Arda for his own pride. He bowed his head, shutting his eyes tight and pressing his head to his fists.

_Thwap_

A neat, friendly, blow struck his shoulder and he yelped in pain and outrage as his elbows slid of the table and his chin followed them downward to strike the edge of the table. Only sheer luck prevented him tumbling ignominiously to the floor.

"Drunk already?

He looked round to see one of the friendly men from the bar and shook his head, as much to clear his brain from the jolt as to signal he was sober

"I'll buy you one then, it's a grand thing to see someone stand up to his _Lordship_." He jerked his head to the door, clearly meaning the captain.

Boromir smiled and adopted a thick Belfalas accent "My thanks… What was his name?"

The man shrugged "Don't know… Everyone here calls him Traston"

Boromir grinned at that, accepting the mug of ale from the innkeeper, who had come over at a beckon "May he cause no more tonight!"

"Aye!"

He set his mug down and nodded to the man, who raised his own mug in salute.

* * *

"Listen!" Someone shouted and a hush dropped over the babbling crowd as swiftly as blanket over a bed. Over the city, carried by many voices, came a song.

_Sing now, ye people of Gondor  
for Midsummer's come and the fair is beginning,  
and the white tower shines._

_Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,  
for your watch hath not been in vain,  
Rest now your duties and  
__glory the spring,_

_Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,_  
_for your Prince has come again,_  
_and he shall dwell among you_  
_all the days of your time._  
_And the Tree that was withered shall e'r renew,_  
_planted by the fountain_  
_the City is blessed, on this summer night._  
_Sing all ye people!_

"The eagle's song."

Boromir watched his brother. Some change, however brief in its staying, had happened as he spoke those words. There had been an open flash of memory, of the true grief and selflessness his brother had felt during the end of the Ring War, and above it all, the hope triggered by news of a victory, the chance not to lose any more of his kin, and to live as the person he truly was.

"Why do you stare at me?"

"Wasn't" He looked pointedly in the other direction

"I'm starting to think you must be drunk without drinking, because you can lie reasonably passably when you're sober…And that one was awful."

Boromir lent over the table in a mock attempt to grab the coin pouch that he saw in his brother's hands "How can I be sober when you're tying knots in the strings of the purse? We're allowed to be drinking, you know."

Faramir raised his eyebrows, sighed, and put the purse on the table, but Boromir noticed he kept a loose grip on the strings "Alright, but for pity's sake keep your wits about you, most here believe you dead."

He nodded and Faramir stood up, clearly regaining control of the situation. Not that he actually minded. The first time he'd been packed off to Ithilien after his brother had joined rangers he'd discovered what a natural leader Faramir was. The kind that could command instant obedience from his men, unless it meant leaving him to die…

He smiled, watching his brother weave his way through the crowd with two full mugs of ale. Yes, Faramir inspired loyalty in a way no-one else he knew, with the exception of Aragorn and Frodo, could. Then he forgot those thoughts as much as he could and took a long gulp of the ale.

"_The Beacon_'s best"

"Of course"

Boromir drew a breath, pulled all his courage together and asked the question that had been worrying him since he arrived "Fara, did any of my men survive? Aside from Beregrond?"

"Two companies… more or less intact." His brother's eyes pulled away, but not before he saw a flash of guilt "The third…"

Boromir half rose, ready to do whatever he could; Faramir looked as if he was either going to faint or be sick. Then those brown eyes looked back at him, becoming the tear-filled ones of a confused five-year old boy

"They rode out with me to re-take Osgiliath…"

The sentence didn't need finishing. Boromir stayed silent for a long moment, going over each of the hundred odd names that had made up that company. Every-one he could put a face to, or often two; one battle weary, the other laughing over too many drinks. Then he looked back at Faramir, hating the naked guilt that shone at him "Why did you try to retake Osgiliath, little brother? We knew that when it fell it would fall hard, beyond rescue by one company…"

"'_I will not yield the River and Pelennor unfought. Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?'_"

Boromir snapped his head up and stared around, expecting to see his father looming up on them. Then he realised that it had been Faramir speaking, for the imitation was laced with bitterness, to a depth remarkable even for Adûnaic. He met his brother's eyes, nodded slowly and placed his hand on the table, pam up. When another hand covered it he gripped it tight briefly then used his free hand to push Faramir's mug towards him.

Hands trembling, Faramir lifted it and gulped down the contents. It was that which told Boromir just how upset and guilty his brother felt about what had happened, and that was probably doubled as he was sitting opposite the previous captain of that company. He knew what that felt like, or near enough… though thank goodness he hadn't had to face Frodo.

Then he shook himself, breaking his reminisces for the second time

_Enough of that_, he scolded and instead drained his own mug and stood up again, desperate to break the silence that reigned between them

"Do you want some more?"

Faramir nodded, wearily "One more, and after that slow down fetching your own… this isn't a competition"

Boromir looked at him and quirked a smile "No, it's having fun"

His brother flicked him such a look that he nearly laughed aloud, but pulled a look of utter blankness at what came from Faramir's mouth.

"Don't blame me if your head is splitting in the morning."

"No, little uncle" He scrambled off before he heard the reply.

* * *

Faramir sighed as his brother rose to his feet again, swaying somewhat. He copied him and attempted to push the other man back down

"You've had enough."

"Why? The night's still young"

Faramir glanced out the window and was trying to decide whether he should enlighten his brother as to the fact it was actually close on middle night. He turned back just in time to see Boromir starting to weeble his way back to the bar, now thoroughly crowded with early comers to the festival, determined to start before dawn. Quickly he grabbed the other man's sleeve "Fine, there's enough coin left to buy any one here who wants it a drink of Beacon mulled wine, we'll have our cup each and then go…"

Reluctantly he passed over the required coins and sat down to wait.

Very soon there was a murmur of thanks and laughter as news of the generosity began to spread around. Silently he stood up as Boromir returned, steered by several kind men who had taken pity on his lack of co-ordination. Faramir nodded his thanks, suddenly grateful not one had actually realised who they were near all evening; probably helped by the fact he'd done most of the trooping back and forth and Boromir had, until just now, kept his hood up. That made another reason for leaving soon. Still, he sipped his wine slowly, smiling as one of the Hobbit's favourite drinking songs began to ring through the room, people picking up one after the other.

_Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go  
To heal my heart and drown my woe.  
Rain may fall and wind may blow,  
And many miles be still to go,  
But under a small tree I will lie,  
And let the clouds go sailing by._

Recognising it as something that Bilbo might have written, or at any rate Tookish (as Pippin had said) he joined in softly, then flinched as what sounded like a kennel full of water deprived hounds took it up next to him. Swallowing the last of the wine he hauled Boromir to his feet and led him out, smiling shamefaced at the laughing men between them and the door. They parted willingly but also made his task harder by grasping Boromir's shoulder, clearly in an expression of thanks for the wine.

* * *

Eventually they were out on the street and Faramir lifted his face to the cool air, automatically drawing it in in a deep breath, though he did so silently. It was a habit he'd had as a young boy, and refined as a ranger, sometimes you could smell your enemy.

_Especially if they're orcs, Uruk-hai or Haradrim _

He smiled and set off, looping his brother's arm over his shoulder and grimacing as the slightly taller man stumbled along, still singing.

Or rather, Faramir thought, what passed as his brother singing. Especially when full of ale.

He shook his head ruefully and carried on, towing Boromir at his side like a slightly recalcitrant pony.

* * *

Éowyn rolled over as the bed creaked. Sure enough her husband was wriggling under the blankets next to her. She frowned at him "If you are drunk…" She left the rest of the sentence hanging.

Faramir shook his head "It's Boromir who's drunk" Then he smiled at her, and she noticed a slight twinkle "I think I come registered under slightly tipsy."

She swatted him lightly "You can stay then."

"I'll have to, I put Boromir in my chamber for tonight" She watched as he shook his head "What am I going to do with him?"

"Be glad he's back, send those boys to rouse him tomorrow morning, and hope Elboron gets someone just as understanding." She held his eyes for a long moment, hoping he would understand what she meant, then willingly accepted his embrace and a kiss.

As they lay side by side she felt her eyelids flutter shut, listening to Faramir crooning something in her ear

"_Ki-zêri ni?  
__Ni-zêri ki  
__Ki-na izrê 'nNi  
__Ki-na izrê 'nNi  
__Ni-zêri ki"_

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Traston_=Troubler**

**Adûnaic**

**_Bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb _=Wind pours from your mouth**

**"_Ki-zêri ni?  
__Ni-zêri ki  
__Ki-na izrê 'nNi  
__Ki-na izrê 'nNi  
__Ni-zêri ki"_**

**Do you love me?**  
**I love you**  
**You are my love**  
**You are my love**  
**I love you**

**(Made up by me from Merin Essi ar Quenteli's Adûnaic phase book)**

* * *

**The other two poems belong to tolkien, but I altered the Eagle one slightly to suit my own needs.**

**Sailor's Posset is my version of a 17th Century drink called Sheepwasher's posset. Milk and ale mixed together, with breadcrumbs added and enough pepper to make it hot. It was meant for warming up men who had spent half a day in an icy river washing sheep, I thought it would work just as well for sailors.**

**Reviews?**


	37. Questions, Queries, Quandaries

**Thank you to_ Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Zammy_, _Blade Draco_ for the reviews  
**

* * *

"ARGH… _Li-nam urîk- Bâ ki-bithahê…_ _Ki-yadahê êphalak,_ _Bâ ki-nakhahê."_

Faramir smothered his laughter as growls and groans came from his brother. Finally he got himself under tight enough control to bang on the door

"Come in!"

Boromir's shout was more of a plea and he had a hard time keeping his face blank as he entered. Two boys leapt off the bed and shot out the door, both laughing and grinning. Smiling again Faramir approached the lump on the bed, addressing it in Adunaic.

"Good morning brother."

"Presume it was you who sent those two to wake me up?"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes" came the grumble, then eyes fixed on him, still sharp despite wine blearyness "Now what is it Faramir?

He took a breath "You'll be joining us at Council today"

Boromir groaned "My head is already splitting, I do not need everyone yelling in surprise that I'm alive and then debating over silly matters for three hours."

Faramir sighed "It's the King's command."

His brother sighed in response and slowly disentangled himself from the blankets "If it is what Aragorn wishes, then I will come…I only hope it doesn't go on for hours"

"It won't, it's the first day of the festival… I think Aragorn's only calling this meeting because of you."

Sure enough Boromir sighed yet again "I wish he wouldn't… I still feel guilty about what I nearly did, the chaos I caused.." Faramir watched as he raised his head from staring at his lap "I nearly destroyed the Quest, and all Arda with it."

"Enough" Even Faramir was surprised at how sharp his voice was "As you told me many times, wallowing in guilt only makes it seem worse… Now get up, or else you'll have to miss breakfast, the council's been called early."

* * *

They walked side by side across the courtyard to one of the side entrances of the great hall, Boromir with his hood up again until they were safely in the passage.

"I'll be happy when I can walk around without hiding any more, it's very tiring."

Faramir nodded distractedly and held up his hand. Boromir stopped obediently and dropped back to half a step behind his brother. Then Faramir opened a second door and led him in.

* * *

As familiar as he was with Great Hall, he still subjected it to a long gaze. The tall statures of long dead kings kept their positions as silent sentinels … and the tiled floor froze his feet, even through his boot leather. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling his shoulders drop and the muscles in his back relax.

_I'm home… I'm truly, truly home _

Slowly he focused his attention on the broad table that stood a short distance from the edge of the throne plinth. His uncle and all the other lords that made up the High Council were already seated in their positions and he watched as Faramir walked forward to assume what had once been their father's seat. Then his eyes were drawn to the side. With all the majesty he'd heard the kings of old possessing Aragorn, Tar-Elessar strode to his place at the centre of the table, drew himself up and spoke "Great Council convened on 7th Cerveth"

A slight scratching distracted Boromir from his study of the council and he looked around to see Elrond sitting at a smaller table, quill in hand and writing. His writing wasn't furious back and forth like one of the court scribes, but steady and flowing. However, discussions hadn't started yet, then he knew though not quite from experience, how quick and accurate a scribe had to be. As Aragorn started speaking he turned his eyes back to the table, most were frowning and angry, but his uncle seemed unconcerned and Faramir was struggling to stop his eyes from glinting

"…this meeting to announce an alteration, and elect a new member to the council." The king drew breath "The office of Captain General is being separated from the Steward at least for the life time of its holder

"Who is that?" Barked a frowning, dark eyed and dark haired man "And on what authority do you re-arrange the situation of this city?"

He saw Aragorn's jaw tense "My own authority, Lord Arnubên, the authority of the king." Then Aragorn turned towards him and beckoned "As for who will hold the office…"

He took the hint and stepped up to the empty chair, sweeping his hood back as he did so and counting seconds in his mind.

_1…2…3_

Then the hall erupted, most of the lords shouting questions at each other and at the king.

"SILENCE"

Elrond's commanding voice cut through to noise like a knife on butter and Boromir sighed with relief.

"If you have all finished behaving like orcs, I think Tar-Elessar has something to say"

The voice was stern, its barb well aimed and he noted with approval how it was followed by the official title of their lord. A title that sent a burning glare whistling towards the elf-lord.

The King turned back to his council "It was by pure luck that the Captain-General did not die on Amon Hen as had been believed, and it is even luckier that he was able to rescue the Prince and return him to us, unharmed… It is for this reason that I am restoring him to his former position

"Why not give him the stewardship? He's Lord Denethor's eldest"

At the other end of the table Boromir saw his uncle shut his eyes at the noble's stupidity, then he glanced to Aragorn who nodded, subtly tilting his head.

"Because I do not want it."

All along the table heads turned back to him as he strode to Aragorn's side and knelt

Aragorn's eyes were sparkling "Boromir Denethorion, will you take up the Stewardship of Gondor and serve your king in all ways required by this office?"

He took a deep breath, feeling all the eyes on him, more than could be accounted for by the council alone "I Boromir Denethorion, refuse the office of steward." There was a collective whooshing of breath, made up of six inward and many more outward

"On what grounds?"

He gritted his teeth, hating Aragorn for going through the entire ceremony but knowing it was required to shut the lords up "On these grounds; Firstly Prince Faramir has proved a most able steward in my long absence. Secondly; He was appointed by your majesty and has done nothing to merit dismissal Thirdly; there have been precedents that a younger son may take the office of an elder and retain it when the elder returns. On these grounds do I refuse the Stewardship, Tar-Elessar."

"Your grounds are true, Boromir Denethorion and I accept them."

He bobbed his head, but stayed down, holding his sword out hilt first "Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth until my lord release me or death take me."

There was a brief thud sound, like someone nearby placing a hand on a table as they wobbled. Whoever it was, it wasn't Aragorn, for his words were perfectly steady

"Your fealty is accepted. Rise… Captain-General of Gondor."

As he stood up there was a smattering of applause but he had eyes only for his brother.

Faramir leant against the table, blood returning slowly to his face. But his eyes were distant, haunted once more, and it took a moment before Boromir received the slight nod of acceptance he was waiting for. When he did he stepped smartly backward before bowing and sidestepping to retake his position at the table.

"The council is now dismissed."

The nobles were slow to leave, each coming up to him and grasping his wrist or bowing. But finally only his kin were left, Faramir leaning on the table and his uncle sitting in his seat with the look he normally used for captured pirates.

"Wasn't there a fourth reason for you rejecting the Stewardship, Boromir?"

He nodded, just about keeping a straight face "Fourthly; Because I hate paperwork and official documentation."

"_Hantanyel" _Imrahil leant back in his chair "And I'm presuming it was you who set all the dogs off last night… either that or there was a wounded wolf around"

"_Bâ ki-bithahê" _He growled, eyes throwing daggers at his uncle. "I thought you were grown up."

The Prince of Dol Amroth rose to his feet and bowed "If you will excuse me Your Majesties, Lord Elrond?" Each nodded and Imrahil glanced along the table as he walked towards the hall door "Come along nephews"

With a suffering looks to each other he and Faramir followed.

* * *

"Amrothos will be surprised to see you Boromir, be grateful that Elphir and Erchirion are still in Dol Amroth."

He frowned as they entered the House that served the Dol Amroth family while in Minas Tirith, only subconsciously noting that things remained unchanged as they climbed the stairs "Where's Thiri then?"

"Rohan" That came from Faramir

"What is she doing there?"

"She married Éomer."

"WHAT!" It came out as a yelp and he stopped walking, staring from one to the other "You're jesting?" They both looked at him straight faced "Little Lightening Streak marrying Éomer?" He shook his head "Poor poor man."

"Boromir" Imrahil's voice carried a mock warning note, and he knew a look had been shot back at him over a sailor's shoulder "I'll thank you to speak well of your cousin."

"I wasn't being disparaging uncle, but you know what Thiri's like"

"Yes I do... I raised her" He detected a slight sigh, but was unsure if it was serious or another mock.

There was a mutter in his ear, more breathed than spoken "When in a hole, stop digging"

He nodded and kept pace with both of them along the corridor, only to be knocked back by something hitting his chest.

"Boromir!"

He flinched as his temples stung once more "Easy Amrothos."

"You're alive… Bergil came down and babbled something yesterday but I couldn't believe him…"

Now he smiled at his youngest male cousin, hearing a boyish over exuberance in the grown man "Yes I'm alive… and I'd be grateful if someone would report what I have missed.

"You tell us your story first."

He sighed, realising he'd been led into his uncle's study and backed against what they knew as the 'storytellers chair'. Shaking his head he sat down "I seem to have no choice in the matter."

* * *

"Well" Imrahil leant against the wall "It seems too good to be true, yet true it must be, for Eldarion is returned, and you are here.

He nodded slowly "I thought so myself at the start, and when Aragorn gave me my rank today." He frowned "Out of curiosity, what would you have done if I had accepted the Stewardship?"

"Punched you stupid" came Amrothos' response

He watched Uncle frown at his youngest before answering his half "I would have boxed your ears until you agreed to retract your vows, nephew…"Gray eyes met his own, and softened from their imagined anger "You acted rightly, though some will not see it that way"

"Pompous stuff shirts" He knew it was rude so changed the subject, before the eyes could become slatey, "Why was Dervorin in the council?"

"His father was killed in the war"

"Oh" It was strange, realising that he'd never see the jovial lord again. Never hear him laughing at his own misfortunes nor hear tall tales over mugs of ale. "We lost many… All through the lands… Tales of death and grieving."

"Yes" Imrahil's voice was soft "And there's been no sign or song of Adûnathôr since you left either."

That caught his attention "Nothing?"

His uncle's eyes mirrored his own grief "No"

"You've been along the coast, checked the fishing camps"

Amrothos spoke "I did that, on the pretext of making sure no corsairs had crept north… He's vanished"

There was a soft noise from Faramir, his head was bowed and his lips moved silently.

Boromir knew what it was he said, the old prayer for safety from the sea, passed down generation to generation. With a sharp movement he rose to his feet and walked over to his brother "I'd rather like to see some more of the Festival brother, will you come?"

Faramir looked at him, eyes still shadowed "Yes… I'll come"

As will I… Amrothos, find your light cloak, check that they are coping with the packing up then catch up"

Yes Attô" The younger of his cousins trotted out as Boromir frowned

"Packing up?"

"Wake up, more like" The old Faramir was suddenly back, his words lightly mocking "In two days all the lords go back to their lands for the rest of the summer, until Cormarë, then we stay on our lands again until high autumn, when we troop back to the city until early Spring…"

"Remember your summers at Dol Amroth?"

He nodded, relishing the memories, six weeks of swimming, playing games, trying to stay up late and listening to Adunathor..

"_Galuben_ there can go home whenever he likes though, and frequently does."

They didn't realise how long they'd been standing until Amrothos walked back in.

"_Bâ ki-bithahê" _Faramir shot back, eyes glinting still "You're not needed at any time of the year at four hours' notice_._

"_N__ossë_..." The voice was quiet but they all reacted, turning to face Imrahil "Shall we go?

* * *

The streets were as filled with people as the day before, but this time there were stalls. Stalls groaning with goods of all kinds and trapped out in colours he only remembered seeing as a boy, bright purples and sunny yellows, dancing scarlet and white stripes.

People stared at the two of them as they walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, always in step. But many ran forward with smiles on their face, to shake his hand, express disbelief and offer him welcome. Some he recognised now, either the people themselves or some familiarity with their kin. Yet soon he wished he'd kept his hood up, for it was strange being bombarded by people. Before, he had often been up on a horse, or amongst a squad of guards parading. Now, despite resumption of his position, he was no longer elevated, but, by following his brother's lead being treated close to an ordinary Gondorian. He realised that he was looking for guards to shepherd him to safety, becoming so on edge that he nearly leapt in the air when Faramir whispered in his ear

"Come"

* * *

A while later they were both seated on a stone bench in one of the gardens, sharing the fruit and cream Faramir had bought in companionable silence. He knew his brother was watching him, surreptitiously, but watching.

"What is it?" Quiet, gentle, Faramir

He stared out over the Pelennor, watching instinctively for the glow of red flame above the mountains. It wasn't there

"Everything is different, I didn't expect it to have changed so much…Even from Banakil's chatter…" He shook his head "This morning in the hall, I felt like I was home, now I no longer know where home is any more, or who I am. I've played the wanderer so long."

"You seemed confident enough in the Arbour Hall, and before The Council this morning"

"Trained formality, drilled into me so I could manage it in my sleep… No more answer as to who I am than that tree in the wind." He looked to his right, expecting to see Faramir and started as he recognised Aragorn instead. "My King"

Aragorn gestured for him to remain seated "You sound like me when I returned to Rivendell after my time down here. I was caught between rocks and hard places. Was I Aragorn, Cheiftan of the Dunedain, Estel of Rivendell, the Tark of Harad, or Thorongil?

"Thoron-" He gulped and lowered his voice "You're Thorongil?"

Aragorn nodded but otherwise ignored the comment "I became who I truly am by putting together all of those aspects, Boromir. As Elendil did before me and Elros Tar-Minyatur did before him." Grey eyes turned to him, warm and steady "I have but one thing to say; Go to Ithilien with Faramir."

He watched silently as the king rose to his feet and almost disappeared into the shadows of the trees, then, glancing speculatively around for his brother, swiped the last piece of fruit.

* * *

**Translations**

**Adûnaic**

**_Li-nam urîk=_ You are orcs**

**_Bâ ki-bithahê= _Be silent_  
_**

**_Ki-yadahê êphalak= _Be gone from my sight_  
_**

**_Bâ ki-nakhahê= _Don't come back**

**Quenya**

**_Hantanyel_= Thank you**

**_N__ossë_=Family/Kin**

**Sindarin**

**_Galuben_= Blessed/Lucky one**


	38. Green and Pleasent Land

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_ for reviewing. To anyone who wants to see more of Elrond, Aragorn and Arwen (and Dari of course), they'll be along in the next chapter.**

**It might help if you read my one-shot '_My Boy_' before reading this. It will just give a little background to a section of this chapter**

* * *

It was still barely dawn when Boromir found himself perched on Karbazîr, in his new saddle, and part of a small procession of wagons and riders going across the flat ground of Pelennor towards the Anduin and Ithilien. At the head was his brother, Éowyn and Elboron, all well mounted and the adults wide awake. As for the boy, it seemed unlikely that Elboron would be awake, so it surprised him when Faramir mentioned that they all rode out, he'd expected the boy to ride in one of the wagons. But now he thought about it he realised that even a six year old had his pride. To lay in a wagon in the city would be an unbearable insult to him, even if wounded. No doubt his nephew felt the same.

There was a rumble of hooves and Faramir reined in beside him.

"What are you thinking of?"

He flicked his eyes toward the front of the cavalcade "Elboron, and how proud and stubborn I was at that age."

Faramir nodded "You're the same in that regard, we all are."

"You were never stubborn, little brother, not if it was for your own good."

His brother fell silent and nudged his horse back into a canter moments later. Boromir knew better than to follow, and instead settled in his saddle to enjoy the ride.

* * *

Suddenly the wagons and most of the riders peeled away on a loop. Startled he halted for a moment, before spotting his brother and Éowyn by a mound. Slowly he rode up to them, dismounting as they had done. By his feet was a green mound covered in simb, much like those in front of Edoras, and beyond that a large area of bare ground. Then he looked to the headstone of the mound, murmuring the words

"_Faithful servant yet master's bane_

_Lightfoot's foal, swift Snowmane."_

_It was here Th__é__oden fell, then. _Closing his eyes briefly he gave a deep bow, fist on his forehead, before coming to attention. Then he stepped away, leading his horse a distance before remounting and following the wagons, which had halted about halfway between the river and the mound, waiting for their lord and lady. Nodding to the head wagoner Boromir urged his horse onward, a soldier's lifelong habits practically commanding him to scout ahead to the bridge.

* * *

What he found surprised him, to the point of a nasty shock. He hadn't actually looked out over the ex-capital since he'd returned, and had naively believed that it wouldn't have changed much during his absence, still skeletons of the once proud buildings. Some forms remained, but an equal quantity were simply piles of stones, more or less haphazard. A track of sorts had been cleared through the carnage, obviously for progresses like the one he was part of. But there had been no other apparent effort to even partly return the city to its pre-War state. He frowned, given Aragorn's efforts on Minas Tirith and what he'd been told of the cleansing of the Morgul Vale, it just didn't fit.

Then he entered what had once been the main square of the city, where he'd perched on the top of a wall and lauded their victory to the men, where he'd said what were to become final goodbyes to his brother. Opposite the entrance arch a large white stone had been set as part of a new wall. Etched on it were words;

_In the memory of those who died defending Osgilath from attack, and all those who fell on the attempt to retake her… You shall be remembered._

"You've found it at last."

He turned his head to see Beregrond had come up beside him. The soldier's face was solemn. Slowly Boromir nodded, but uncertain what he should feel, other than an honouring gratitude that these men had ridden out to protect the rubble.

"Faramir would have gone alone, you know"

"Aye" He found a lump in his throat now, thinking of what would have happened.

"He tried to pass a false message to all the men, but they saw through it, they knew him to well"

A rattling clatter announced the arrival of the baggage and they both dropped into place, neither speaking any more, and each obeying the age old command to salute the fallen.

* * *

It took a good hour to inch all of the wagons over the bridge. Boromir watched the stones nervously as each rolled over them. Dwarf work it might be, but he remembered the crashing as the old stones had collapsed under the weight of a catapult rock, taking a good many men with them. He doubted he'd ever trust the bridge with a heavy load again, and especially when it carried people he and his kin cared about. Beside him Faramir watched with equal intensity. But the rest of his brother's face, even the depths of his eyes, were a mask, blanked of all emotion. All to easily Boromir realised it wasn't dispassion that caused that, but the attempt of a mind to prevent itself remembering painful memories, a protecting wall for true feelings, preventing them overwhelming the person. He'd felt much the same in those early days after Gandalf had roused him, willing to focus exclusively on survival, his mind refusing to allow him to dwell on what he had done before.

Finally the last cart rolled off the bridge and he breathed a sigh, relaxing. Unintentionally his eyes drifted down ward and he found himself studying the intricate tooling on the pommel of the saddle. The entire thing was a masterpiece of leather-craft and saddlery, all the more so in the fact it had been delivered to the stables the evening before, yet had only been commissioned three days previous to that. He didn't dare consider how much it might have cost... That thought made him smile, for he'd always been the one with a reputation for reckless spending in the family, ostentatiously on cloaks, clothes and the like, but really on books for a young boy. He glanced at his brother, remembering tears of joy whenever the packaged rectangle turned itself into book. What he saw made him blink like an owl in the sunlight.

The mask was gone, evaporated like a sea mist in the sun. As he watched Faramir raised his hand in a signal to the entourage, then spun his horse about and trotted away down the main street of the city, heading for Ithilien like a homing pidgins. Confused he looked back to the collection of wagons and guards, only to notice Éowyn and Elboron detaching themselves from the group and going in the same direction as Faramir. Finally it dawned on him what was going on, that this action was planned and expected, and he gave chase as quickly as he dared given the cobbled footing for his horse's hooves. However as soon as they were off the cobbles and on the the dirt road he gave Karbazîr his head, thundering in pursuit until he could shout to his brother

"What's going on?

Faramir glanced back but didn't bother to slow much as he answered "We all ride on ahead, see that the Hall is ready for its inundation of people"

He frowned at the title bestowed on their destination then shook his head as Faramir preceded to canter onwards, apparently heedless of danger. This was not the wary ranger Captain he'd left behind, nor the careful man he'd shared ale with a few evenings before. Raising his voice he called again "What of orcs?"

His brother's arm rose up and made a gesture close to a wave in the direction of one of the trees that lined their path. Checking that Éowyn wasn't within sight Boromir dug his heels into his horse. With the extra burst of speed he was able to draw level with his brother and grasp the bridle of the other horse before easing them both to a stop. Then he moved his bay so it effectively penned Faramir's chestnut and repeated his question.

"What of orcs?"

"There are no orcs..."

His brother's voice carried a tone normally used for impatient children, and it was only years of fellowship between them that prevented him bristling

"...And even if there are some stragglers around, they wouldn't stand a chance"

Before he could frown an arm pointed upwards into one of the trees. He followed it with his eyes, peering into the lattice of leaves and branches. Built around the main trunk, made to fit the tree like a glove, was a Talan. Save that the wood was brown rather than silver, it was not so different to the ones the Fellowship had slept in after Haldir found them. He nodded slowly, both in approval and acquiescence.

"Your Rangers."

"There are watch posts like this all along the road, spaced and positions so they cover the entire length. It would take a very clever and silent orc to get past even one of them."

Too late Boromir noticed that as Faramir had been talking he'd also been backing his horse out of the block that had been formed. Now an orange and brown thing plunged past him, close enough to almost brush his cloak. Karbazîr stamped his hooves and fought the bit but Boromir held him to a walk, instead enjoying the new green land that was alive and growing all around him. There was a gaiety in the air, the same song of life that had rung, though muted, in Minas Tirith, on Amon Hen. He mentally shook his head at his turn of phrase. He could apparently find beautiful music, but if others couldn't hear it by themselves, he'd never be able to show them. His revival had not, according to his uncle, altered his musical talents... which had numbered virtually nil since his voice broke.

* * *

A child's laughter made him turn his head, but the road bent just behind him and there was no-one in sight. He let his horse amble onwards, not quibbling when the gelding reached down and snatched at grass, taking advantage of his slack reins. Bad riding he knew, but he wasn't bothered at that particular moment in time, especially as there was no-one to see...

An apple core thumped on the track in front of him and Karbazîr lunged for it, before practically sticking his nose to the ground as he ate. Quiet chuckles from a large tree made him blush as he silently argued with the gelding. But it was impossible to shorten the reins because the bay had stuck his entire neck down, and used the weight of that appendage as a brace against his tugs

"Stupid warg of a horse, get your head up" Boromir hissed. He felt seven years old again and instinctively braced for the riding master's sharp commands as to what to do. Nothing came and he felt his face growing even warmer as the child's chatter became more and more audible.

"Please"

With a snort Karbazîr lifted his head and broke into an easy trot, apparently of his own violation. Though, Boromir conceded, it was more a jog than a proper trot... and a very uncomfortable jog too.

* * *

"There you are"

He twisted in the saddle, to see Faramir's chestnut cropping grass while tethered to a tree and his brother perched on a branch just above the horse's head.

His brother's eyes laughed as he spoke "I thought you might be lost, especially given you never paid much attention when you were with the rangers."

He felt himself go pink again "Will you never let me forget that?"

Faramir shook his head "No" He leapt down from the branch with a grace that was almost elven. The movement revealed a glint of silver at his collar as the sun caught on a piece of metal. Boromir pointed it out

"What's that?"

"Nothing"

But the answer came to quickly and a hand jumped up to the offending collar. Still, he let it pass and changed the subject "I'm here now... do you want to lead on, or do we wait for Éowyn and Elboron?"

Faramir glanced along the road "They'll be along..." He smiled slightly "Before Elboron was born Éowyn and I used to race along like we did earlier, and when Elboron was young enough he rode up in front of me as we did the same."

Boromir smiled in return. But there was nothing that needed saying. He stayed in quiet contemplation as they led the horses along the road, dismounting to better keep his brother company. Then Faramir paused and pointed.

"Over that hill and we're there." He swung back into the saddle and let his horse trot

Boromir followed suit, save that he checked rather sharper when they topped the rise.

The Anduin stretched out in the distance, he could see it glinting like liquid sapphire. But it wasn't that which caught his attention. Instead his eyes were drawn to a closer view, focusing in on the valley that spread below him. It was smaller than Rivendell, with a less imposing border, hills instead of mountains. But like the country around it, it was filled with life. On the side of the valley closest to them stood a large house, made of wood. It didn't sprawl, exactly, no it was too well crafted for that. But even from the outside it gave the impression of being large and spacious.

"Home" Faramir's voice was soft and Boromir recognised the mark of tears in it.

He gave his brother a sideways look "Might I see it closer?" But he made no move to go forward down the hill towards the house , instead turning his attention back to the valley. Most of it seemed to be divided into paddocks, each with horses grazing or playing. But it a few spots, which he recognised as having near permanent warm sun, trees were growing instead. He peered down at them, frowning. Yet they defied his attempts at identifying them and he sensed Faramir's amusement. He looked back over and caught a smile, however slight.

"You're as changeable as the be-bothered northern weather Fara."

His brother shrugged slightly "It means I can fit the terrain when I'm ranging, what ever the sky may be doing." By some unseen signal the chestnut horse started to amble down the road to the hall

Boromir shook his head and let Karbazîr follow, settling his weight back in the saddle to make the slope easier on the horse.

* * *

They entered the three quarters of a square formed by the buildings and dismounted. From nowhere a groom appeared to take his horse, but Boromir was surprised to see Faramir stop him with a hand gesture and a few words

"I'll see he settles the bay myself Raphon"

Obedient to the inference he followed Faramir into the left hand of the buildings, which he had initially guessed to be a stable due to its horse decoration on the outer walls. He was proved correct by the fact that each wall was lined with stalls and loose-boxes, creating a straight aisle down the middle. Even as he surveyed it he smiled, there was no doubt Éowyn had a hand in this, it was so similar to those at Meduseld.

"You can put Karbazîr in the stall next to mine"

Coming to reality sharply he did as instructed, tying his horse up, untacking him and giving him a brief rub with a blanket to dry any half sweat on his coat. With a final pat he slipped back into the aisle, hefting the saddle onto his arm. Faramir led him down to the house end of the stable, past several larger loose boxes, and through a well hidden door into the tack room. As familiar as he was with such things, it was still amazing to see the saddles as high as a man on a box could reach, bridles hung next to them, all gleaming with the shine of well cared leather and metal. But there was one thing that had him frowning.

"Why do you have an anchor hanging from the ceiling Faramir?"

His brother set the saddle down on a cleaning horse before answering "It's not an anchor, its for hanging uncleaned bridles on" Even as he spoke he did exactly that before turning back towards Boromir "Normally it's the rule that the rider cleans the tack themselves and immediately, unless sick or injured... and in that we count exhaustion, though only the kind where you're about to fall out of the saddle"

He sighed, setting his saddle down and starting to look around for whatever they used to clean it, wishing he'd been as self-sufficient when it came to horse care as Faramir. But it had been so easy to let the grooms deal with their stable care, the boring part. All he knew clearly was campaign care, seeing a horse could carry you well to battle, and be in decent condition through long treks. Yes he knew how to keep dirt and sweat off his tack, but not polishing them to the degree those articles around him displayed.

"...But I want to reacquaint you with someone, so we'll leave them for Raphon this time.."

He felt eyes burn into his head, met his brother's firm gaze and nodded slightly "I understand, next time I will clean the tack to the best of my ability"

Faramir gave him a smile that was almost more fatherly than brotherly, but it was distracted, for he was carefully rummaging in a small chest in the corner of the room. Boromir stepped forward, peering over his shoulder, only to narrowly avoid being knocked over as his brother stood up, triumphantly holding something...

"Carrots?"

His brother's eyes danced slightly "And an apple...Now come on."

* * *

"Faramir, what are you planning?"

"Nothing"

But the other man wouldn't meet his eyes as he vaulted over the fence like a deer. Boromir began to wish that he dared to pin his brother down and force an answer out of him, as he was wont to do with Elphir or Erchirion when they were younger. But he knew that Faramir could never remember that it was meant half in jest, and he'd seen those eyes fill with fear too easily and too often. Now was different, and Faramir outranked him, whatever was officially said about them being equal. He had nothing to his name, while Faramir had the whole of this paradise from the king. Subconsciously he nodded.

_This is how it should be, for Faramir has worked for his honours, and now has time to play._

A piercing whistle shattered the silence and he spun, seeking danger. Then there was the thudding of hooves striking the ground. From a small grove of hazel trees at the far end of the paddock came a flash of orange-red, like a flame charging across the grass. He squinted against the sun but struggled to make out a form, seeing only a wavering shape, with white at its front and a plume sailing behind. Then a cry tore from his throat as he realised what he watched was a horse, chestnut with a blaze, flying straight towards them.

He braced himself, either to fling himself on the grass or vault the fence. Though he didn't believe Faramir would place anyone in danger deliberately, the horse showed no sign of stopping, and though it's pace was not the fastest he'd ever seen the distance between them and it was shortening rapidly. He edged slightly closer to Faramir and made his choice of action; over the fence for both of them. But his brother shook off his hand and actually walked forward, raising his hands to shoulder level.

In an instant the horse slowed, trotting the last piece to nudge Faramir in the chest. Boromir watched their interaction, seeing the affection in his brother's eyes and the happiness in the horse's. Something about them spoke of long companionship, a friendship as deep as the Rohirrim claimed with their mounts. He leant on the fence, quite content to be an observer despite a feeling of embarrassment akin to spying on lovers in a private moment.

Eventually Faramir turned back to him, eyes shining. "She's changed quite a bit since you saw her last... Haven't you?" The last was addressed to the mare.

Boromir dug through his mind, but didn't anything useful so settled for a bland and honest "Has she?"

The look he got was almost pitying "Boromir! Have you forgotten the best birthday present you ever gave me?"

That didn't help so he turned it into a joke "A horse better than books? You must be ill Fara."

The horse snorted loudly and flicked her ears before slamming one front hoof on the ground. He watched as Faramir soothed her to silence, murmuring platitudes. One caught his ear

"Forgive him... he doesn't know how clever you are, my girl."

Something clicked and he was flung back to being 20 years old, dragging a 15 year old Faramir out of bed and down to the stable to see his mare foal. A foal he had promised to his brother only days before.

"Saelwen"

The mare pricked her ears and came over to nudge him, clearly begging treats as she had done with Faramir.

Patting her he offered the slices of carrot one at a time "Enjoying your retirement, are you? Being spoilt rotten no doubt"

"Of course" came Faramir's agreement "Why on earth wouldn't I? She's earned it thrice over by herself and again through her foals... One brought me home from Osgiliath, the oldest is Éowyn's nicest natured broodmare and I ride another." He came forward and began to braid the chestnut mane "She's Queen of the Stables here..." A firm nose dug in his chest, pushing. Faramir staggered, giving her a swat even as he laughed "and knows it too."

Almost on the heels of his comment came a stallions shrill neigh. Boromir watched his brother's eyes shift in colour ever so slightly and suddenly his voice rang out across the valley.

"Caranthir! Behave!"

Sensing he was supposed to see something Boromir edged around Saelwen until he was next to his brother. Two paddocks across a blood-bay stallion pranced up and down the fence, bellowing in a slightly bull-like fashion, ears dancing between pricked and flat back. As impressive a sight as he made Boromir found himself wary for some reason.

"Beautiful animal"

"And a devil to handle... He's only five but he knows he's a stallion." His brother shook his head "He's from a bloodline Éowyn's been after since before she married, the best Gondor has to offer in the way of horses

He considered that for a moment, speaking the first name that came into his head "Aravaldëa?"

Faramir nodded "Yes..."

Suddenly Boromir was aware of a bitterness in his brother's face and paid extra attention

"It took weeks of bargaining to get him, and quite a bit of coin too. Foals half Rohirric and half Aravaldëa would be second to the Mearas only in Éowyn's opinion. But we'll probably have to settle for a lesser amount of high quality Gondorian horse."

"Why?" But as he watched it was an empty question. As Faramir had said, the stallion knew what he was to the enth degree. Unfortunately he seemed to have the same perceptiveness regarding humans, the dark gaze was intense to a point . Slowly he nodded "He's been kept for breeding by the Stud Master, unlike Karbazîr , Snowmane, Firefoot, Brego and the other stallions we use he hasn't been broken to saddle, only to be led. Now he's not a young gangly colt anymore, he has the weight and strength to not only make threats but to fulfill them."

"Which is twice bad, for Éowyn values good temperament above anything else in her horses. It also means I can't let Elboron come down here alone to see Saelwen..." There was a deep sigh and Boromir politely averted his eyes. Saelwen nickered and gave her owner a gentle push, while Boromir, recognising her movement as a signal, blindly reached over to grasp his brother's shoulder in support

"You'll geld him?"

Faramir nodded "If we can't sweeten him to good manners. Geld him, back him and sell him. He might make a good warhorse for someone."

Boromir knew his limits, and his brother's, better than to offer to take the horse. Instead he cast about for a distraction, placing his eyes anywhere but the offending paddock. Then he remembered his initial view of the valley and the riddle it had posed

"Fara, when we were up on the hills I saw some trees down here, not wild ones, but some that had been deliberately planted"

His brother smiled, eyes shining "Ah, you've found half of our secret, have you?"

Again he responded with a bland throwback "Have I?"

Faramir nodded, gave Saelwen a final pat and climbed over the fence. Boromir made to follow but froze as a shout cut through the air

"Elboron!"

The boy came haring down the track between the fields, Éowyn in rapid pursuit and calling to her son. Boromir vaulted the fence and swung the boy in the air, making him laugh and effectively steering him away from any trouble. Setting the boy on the ground he gave a brief nod to Éowyn. She returned it and sent a glance over in the direction of Caranthir "I take it from your quick reaction that Faramir has enlightened you as to our problem..."

"And in seeking to distract me, he's guessed our secret"

She raised an eyebrow at him "I think that unlikely, Gondorians are not know for their strength in riddle games"

Boromir hastened to stop her before he was slandered anymore, not liking the inference of that arched brow "Only Faramir says I have guessed your secret, though I have no idea what it is."

"On this occasion the secret is more Faramir's than mine" Éowyn conceded "Mine canter around you, an attempt to create the finest line of horses here in this land."

"In which you will succeed as you have with all else" Faramir scooped her close and kissed her.

* * *

Boromir laughed at Elboron's reaction, his nephew pulled a face instantly recognisable as disgust. Crouching he offered his back to his nephew

"Hop up"

When the boy was safely ensconced pig-a-back, he broke into a soldiers jog trot, heading back in the direction of the house. So rapidly did his muscles remember the pace that he held a one-sided conversation, trying to fathom out what everyone was fussing about. He was so engrosed he nearly tripped when a hand touched him on the shoulder, then remembered his passenger

"What is it Elboron?"

"Don't go to the door, go off down that path there." The boy poined and after some awkward neck bending to follow the finger Boromir set off in the correct direction.

* * *

The path seemed to lead to precisely nowhere, except a thicket. Stopping he twisted his head to look up at his guide, then gave up and spoke his question "Are you leading me a dance Elboron, or are we actually going somewhere?

"Down please"

Even though it seemed likely this was a piece of mischief, concocted just to get him lost in the valley and teased by his brother, he did as requested. The boy trotted over to the thicket and pulled at a few of the branches in a fashion that was almost speculative, as if he was testing them in some way. Finally his hand rested on one and he nodded

"Push this please Uncle"

Though it surprised him to realise such an adresswas directed to him he managed not to show it openly, instead doing as requested. The thicket shifted slightly and he could suddenly see through it to a narrow clearing with a hut of sorts. One after the other they stepped along the path and as he released the branch Boromir saw the curtain of branches come back into position. He shook his head, but was inwardly awed by the wood-skill required to create such a shield.

A slight stamp of a foot brought his attention back to his nephew, who had walked over toward the hut and now disappeared behind it. He followed hastily, only to stop in surprise as he rounded the end. Before him was a great stone wheel on a wooden axle. A second wooden post, set in a raised centre section, braced the other end and, to judge by its fittings, allowed the stone to roll. He moved forward to look closer and almost fell into a ditch. Steadying himself he stared at the wheel again, realising it sat in the ditch, a perfect fit. Almost speculatively he walked over to the stone and peered closer. Nothing about it caught his eye, but the ditch it sat in did. It was lined with stone, carved to fit exactly around the wheel, with an equal gap on either side, while the edge was raised slightly above ground level, to about halfway up his shins. It was that edge that had nearly had him down. Rising to his feet he paced around to the rod sticking out of the stone and lent on it, pushing with both arms and chest. It didn't budge but he found what he was looking for.

* * *

Straightening he nodded once and held out his arms to Elboron, who had climbed up on the centre section

"Come, little one, home time"

The boy smiled and sprang towards him, the knock to his chest at landing making him stagger half a step. But with a soldiers practice he recovered and swung the boy to sit on one shoulder

"Now, you'll have to tell me how to get back again, Elboron, for I haven't a clue"

"You're no ranger then" Another voice spoke from the bushes nearby and a figure stepped out. He wore a green-brown cloak, while the rest of his garb was also the colours of earth. Boromir sighed with relief.

"Did my brother send you?"

The ranger shook his head "No, I'm officially off duty at the moment" A half laugh came from under the hood "Not that any long-term ranger here is capable of that." He held out his hand "Captain Damrod, one of Far-, er, the Prince's, second-in-commands."

Shifting his grip on Elboron's legs Boromir shook it, noticing the man's slight slip in naming, and liking it "Pleased to meet you"

"May your trails be clear and your own tracks well hidden" Damrod intoned. Boromir gave him a blank look and the man sighed "Never mind, I'll lead you back to the hall."

That he was willing to understand, and followed Damrod with ground eating strides, having set Elboron down once it became clear that the path, if it fitted that name, was barely tall enough for his own stature without a child increasing it. Hard going it might be, but he thought he was coping, until a tree root wrapped itself around both his feet...

* * *

Faramir looked over as the door to the private communal chamber opened. Then he burst out laughing "Where did you go? Half way to Arnor?"

Boromir stood in the door way, wearing only socks on his feet and with his breeches soaked to the knees. Leaves were in his hair and firmly adhering to his shirt, which was also interestingly attired with flecks of mud. And in all of this rested a face like a muted thundercloud. However what alarmed Faramir most, even as he howled with amusement, was a flicker of knowledge in his brother's eyes. Finally he got himself under control and gestured to a nearby chair

"Sit down, you look exhausted."

Boromir walked across the room, every part of his stance shouting of injured dignity. When he had settled on the chair Faramir found himself subjected to an intense scrutiny

"Was it you who suggested Damrod lead me through the most difficult tracks back to this hall? Or was it his own idea?"

He held up his hands in defence, meeting the gaze "Boromir, all routes here but the roads from Minas Tirith and the path to the paddocks are difficult. Most of them have existed long before my Princedom was created, before I was even a Captain, before either of us were even born. Many are game trails, created by the wild creatures who have more right than we to call this place home. Others, made by the rangers, deliberately emulate them, for the design makes it easier to hear orcs coming and spring ambushes. But all follow the easiest pat in that area, I can assure you."

Boromir was still watching him, but there was more humour and less anger in his face "Well aside from the unhelpfully placed tree roots, the bramble and thorn bushes, the muddy banks, extremly cold streams, and hard inflexible branches..." There was a brief flash of a smile, one that had an almost devilish quality "I will allow that your valley, and I am sure the rest of your land, is beautiful, lush, verdant and full of life. In fact..." Faramir watched as his brother crossed his legs and lent back on the hard chair, though in a less than fluid motion "I would be willing to drink a toast to it."

He sighed slightly and stood up. When he spoke his eyes and voice carried a half mocking inflection "What should I call for? Ale? Mead? Wine?"

"Oh nothing so fancy" There was a slightly flippant careless edge to his brother's voice "I'm sure the purpose would be served most admirably, nay, in the best possible fashion, if the cup contained some of your Ithilien Cider..."

He was only half listening, the other part amused at the fact exhaustion made his brother so verbose. It was on instinct he nodded as the deliberations met an end "Of course, I'll..." The last two words registered with a mental thump like a catapult ball hitting one of the city towers and he spun around to face his brother, mouth open and eyes wide. But no coherent words came to his brain. Laughter echoed in his ears, made the rafters ring and some part of him watched Boromir produce it, grey eyes streaming as he gasped for breath, hand thumping his leg in time with his mirth. Eyes that carried a message of hilarity he'd almost forgotten seeing, hadn't truly seen since he was five years old.

_Got you that time_

* * *

**Don't think there are any translations this time._  
_**

**The apple press is based on one I saw on a program called Victorian Farm, and some looking at pictures. **

**Reviews?**


	39. Bored, Bored, and Bitter

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Glory Bee_ and _Blade Draco_ for reviewing.**

**Most of the conversation in this chapter, apart from the first one, is taking place in Sindarin  
**

* * *

_Thub, thub, thub_

The boy was perched on the edge of the fountain pool, swinging his legs so his heels struck the stone rhythmically. Then he paused and cocked his head, as a dog would when listening intently. But there was nothing to hear, save a dull and distant murmur down in somewhere below the fifth circle. Had he not inherited sharp ears that would have been silence too. The boy sighed, a fed-up annoyed huff of breath and jumped down off his perch. Slowly he walked down to the end of the pinnacle, resting against one of the end pillars. But for once the view held no impression on his mind, except to remind him that Elboron was in Ithilien and he wasn't. "Not fair..." He aimed a half-hearted kick at the wall "Not fair not fair not fair." His mutter was matched to the pace of his walk and emphasised by the occasional stamp. Then the sound created changed slightly and he froze, looking in horror at what his foot had just connected with. The White Tree. His bitterness replaced by shame Eldarion placed his hand on the trunk and whispered an apology. The tree briefly appeared to shift its leaves and he sighed slightly, hoping the message had got through, despite him having almost no wood-elf in him.

"Hello lad"

He turned to see one of the guards watching him and nodded slightly "Captain Baran"

The guard glanced around then came closer "You look lost, lad..."

Eldarion shifted his shoulders slightly "Bored"

"No-one to play with?"

He shook his head "Elfwine's in Rohan, Elboron's gone to Ithilien and he's taken Bergil with him."

He watched as Baran pursed his lips and frowned, clearly relishing the challenge "There are no others you consort with?"

The wording riled him "I don't _consort_ with Elboron and Elfwine, we're friends."

"Peace" Baran held up his hand "My prince, I meant no offence" But he drew back and Eldarion regretted his temper, for the company had been nice. He rested his forehead on the tree, seeking its help.

* * *

Aragorn sighed and forced his attention back to the paper in front of him. But now it came to him that he was greater parts a ranger than a statesmen, the first draft of a treaty with the Southrons, the Haradrim, failing to hold his attention. Eyes drifted longingly out the window, not down to the city but to the greenness of Ithilien.

_Smack_

"Ouch" He flinched and rubbed the back of his head. A finger darted into his vision and jabbed the parchment. He rolled his eyes and focused again. Or at least made the appearance of focusing on the parchment. In reality his gaze snuck sideways, watching Arwen as she sat near another of the windows with her embroidery frame. Her stitches were quick and neat, seeming simple individually, almost too plain. But combine them together and you gained a thing of beauty. It was her needle that worked his formal tunics and jackets, making them gleam with a thread that seemed between ithildin and hithlim. It had been she who sewed the Great Banner of Gondor, now safely kept for extreme formal occasions only, working on it even as her strength failed.

"Work"Her voice was sharp and, even more alarmingly, carried a hint of Elrond in it.

But he ignored it and twisted to face her fully. "Hypocrite"

Arwen raised her eyebrows at him, eyes wide in innocence.

He wasn't fooled "I know you Arwen... You do not loath embroidery as much as Éowyn, but you have things that precede it in your preference list... much as I do with this. Now Faramir could probably keep me on task, given his ability to read beneath the words as well as what is on top"

She nodded slowly and he saw that she'd accepted his argument. He rose to his feet and stretched, throwing the treaty a look of loathing "Shall I fetch the Battle set?"

Arwen's eyes lit up at that prospect but he noted she was careful to secure her needle on the edge of her work. He smiled slightly and pulled his gaze away before she noticed the scrutiny. Instead he settled his mind into a more active frame, planning various moves he might use in the upcoming games.

* * *

Elrond turned another page, reading the old book with fluid movements of his eyes, drinking in the familiar characters of Tengwa. The feeling he'd felt when one of the archivists had come running to him that morning, babbling about having found old records hidden away in a wall chamber... Well, that had paled on actually seeing the tomes and realising they were the books so long lost they were now library mythology; original Sindarin and Quenya records from the time of Elendil and his sons. First-hand accounts of the founding of the kingdoms, and great mention of the Noldor's helping hands in the north. These were books that he had seen written, had, on occasion, been mentioned in. True treasures of the past. Pausing in his thoughts and reading he stroked the edge of the leather binding with one finger, considering what he had been told.

_And all the more special because they were considered destroyed, ripped to shreds on the orders of Denethor._

"Did he annoy you?"

He looked round to see Eldarion watching him "Why would you think that?"

"You were frowning and your eyes were dark, like they are when you're angry."

The elf sighed, half-heartedly cursing the perceptiveness of the young "I was angry, Dunelig... but with Denethor, not the archivists"

Now it was the boy's turn to frown "Can you be angry with someone who is dead?"

"Yes, though sometimes it is less satisfactory than being angry at someone alive, for you cannot hope for them to change their ways."

The boy muttered something, his tone distinctly sour. Elrond twisted in his chair to fully face him then gave up, rose to his feet and swung the boy up to sit on the desk "Why so bitter, Dunelig?

He sensed his grandson almost say something, but pause and reconsider "I've no-one to play with, I'm all alone."

* * *

Eldarion saw his grandfather's face freeze slightly, then a tiny forced smile appeared.

"_Aurenna enta hanyuval eressë_."

The Quenya words were sad and whispered and for once Eldarion wished he paid more attention to his lessons. Now that really did show how bored he was, wishing for Quenya. He snapped back to reality when his grandfather spoke again.

"Tell me the truth, little one. You've been separated from Elboron before; in the spring, and last year."

He sighed, trying to substantiate what he'd said, thereby concealing it was only half the matter that annoyed him"But we went to Ithilien for his birthday, and stayed until mine, so it wasn't so long...and last year, I was younger, didn't notice so much."

Grey eyes gazed at him, steady, almost unreadable. With a huff he gave up his pretense.

"Why does Elboron get to go places while I'm stuck here?" It came out more forcefully than he intended "Don't say that Elfwine doesn't go anywhere, he's got the whole Edoras valley to look at and ride in, people don't expect him to be prim and proper and princely the whole time. _And_ he's younger than me, both by years and mentality" He lept off the desk, glaring up at his grandfather, daring him to contradict him "Why do we always stay cooped up in this fortress of stone? Faramir gets to leave, and he's only the Steward. Father's the King and we stay here day in, day out, all seasons through. It's not fair!"

The shout echoed in the small room and was followed by stamps as he stormed around the room, venting his temper in the only way possible.

"Your father has a duty to be here, it is his capital, there must be a royal presence here at all times"

Still fuming Eldarion shot back a retort "He's King of Arnor too... yet he's never there"

He heard his grandfather sigh, a clear sign that the elf wasn't going to allow himself to be riled "Arnor has been broken and kingless for many years, its people protected by the Dunedain. It was more important for your father to establish himself here, where there is resentment for his rule, than in the north, where his people are already mostly well respected."

He glowered, continue to storm about the room. None of it made any sense to him, and the grown-up's version of sense, if this was what it was, was convoluted, biased and stupid. They were men, not orcs, but it seemed that orcs had written the rules of this land...

"Would you like to go to Rivendell?"

The soft question broke into his mutinous thoughts as nothing else would. Mid stomp he spun to face his grandfather, feeling hope rise in his chest "Could we?"

Elrond nodded gravely "More than could, Dunelig, _will_."

He gasped, struggling to remember how to breath "All of us? You me, father, mother?

Another nod "And Faramir, Éowyn, Elboron, Boromir, Eomer, Thiri and Elfwine."

"Bergil and Haleth?"

Now his grandfather was smiling "Of course"

He bounded across the distance between them, flinging himself into welcoming arms "When?"

"When you have a full decade to your name, little one, that autumn we will go"

Eldarion hugged him tight "_Hantanyel órenyallo_" Then he sprang away, flinging open the study door and practically bouncing down the corridor, yelling in delight and hearing his grandfather's chuckles behind him.

* * *

"Was your study of the treaty productive, Estel?" Elrond accepted the offered wine and studied his foster-son's face. Eyes shifted away from his own and there was a slight flush "Or do I take it you were distracted?"

Shamefaced Aragorn nodded and Elrond saw his eyes half flick in Arwen's direction. He raised half an eyebrow.

Aragorn clearly realised he'd seen the movement and gabbled out an explanation "Not in _that_ way... but we were both bored out of our minds with what we were doing, and ended up playing Battle instead."

He fixed his gaze on the pair of them, icy stern "While that game is fine for tactics training and whiling away _empty_ afternoons, I do not think it, with it's associations, should take precedence over a peace treaty.

Both dropped their gazes to the floor and shook their heads, looking so like chastened children he had great difficulty keeping up the mask. Instead he took a slow sip of wine and savored it, keeping them in disgrace for a long moment. Then he set the goblet down firmly on the table and lent back slightly in his chair.

"However, you will be pleased to know, or perhaps not, that you weren't the only ones bored today

Aragorn shot him a disbelieving look "The Lost Tomes were boring?"

He shot an admonitory look in that direction "Did I say it was me? Nay, it was Dari" He paused and gestured impatiently for them to sit, then realised how insubordinate that would seem to an onlooker. However, neither of them seemed to mind. "He had no-one to play with..."

Aragorn gave a half laugh at that, but shut up quickly

"And he was furious about having to stay here when Elboron could leave and go to Ithilien. He found it especially unfair given the disparites in rank, that lords could leave while the Royals had to stay."

"...Not the only one"

Elrond nodded to accept Aragorn's admission, and a quick glance to Arwen showed she felt the same. "His Elven blood is showing itself, especially that of the Sindar I think." He paused slightly It was less the unfairness of being left behind, and more the repression he is starting to feel here that had him wound up, repression which seems all the more intense because, without Elboron or Elfwine here he cannot roam the city in company of those near his own age. He does not find the protection of Haleth or Bergil stifling as he would a detail of guards, they have some boyish mischief in them yet."

"What did you agree to Father?" Arwen's voice sounded so resigned to the fact he had done something silly that had it been several octaves deeper, he would have believed it was Ereinion sitting opposite him, waiting to hear the latest mischief he would have to remedy on behalf of his wards.

A sense of the same guilt, though muted, crept up on him and he averted his gaze slightly "I said we would all go to Rivendell after he turned ten, in that autumn." Then he waited, listening for the inevitable uproar

"And we'd stay there all winter... probably missing Cormarë, down here that is. If we time it right we can be up there by then... I'm presuming everyone linked to the three troublemakers was invited?"

He frowned, hearing what sounded like planning rather than remonstration and answered the question, allowing a trace of confusion "Excluding those of Dol Amroth, but including Thiri, yes"

"Good"

He looked up and met Aragorn's eyes "You're not cross?"

Arwen answered for her husband "Of course not, there is time for arrangements to be made."

His gaze flicked back to Aragorn, who was laughing almost silently "And 'I need a holiday, a very long holiday; to quote Bilbo" the king's eyes drifted up to the ceiling "Thank goodness for the common sense of hobbits, and the annoyance of my son"

Elrond raised his goblet in reply to the inferred toast and drained it in a single gulp. Then he glanced towards the door of Eldarion's room

"I take it we'll tell him in the morning"

There was a mischievous look in Aragorn's eye "Leave him a note now, and we'll all hide before he wakes up..."

The thought of the mad hide and seek which would ensue set all three laughing but Elrond contained himself for a second longer

"Not treaty dodging I hope?"

Total innocence was the reply "Now why would I do that?"

* * *

**Translations**

**Quenya**

**_Aurenna enta hanyuval eressë _= One day you will understand what it is to be alone (lit. On a future day, you will understand solitude.)_  
_**

**___Hantanyel órenyallo _= I thank you from my heart___  
_**

**Thiri is a shortened version of Lothíriel, if anyone's confused**

**Right, I have a challenge. Skimming back over the story, can anyone work out how much time has passed (in the story) between then and now. I'm doing my own calculations as we speak, but some help would be useful. Answers in PMs are welcome.**

**Reviews anyone?  
**


	40. Excerpts from the Archives

**Thanks to_ Kaisaan Greenleaf, Glory Bee, gginsc, Blade Draco _andfor reviewing.**

**This chapter, as its title suggests, is one to form a bridge in the story over a time skip. For anyone who's interested, the previous chapter was set in F.A. 10 and the next will be in F.A. 13.**_  
_

* * *

_Nórui __Tollui __F.A. 11_

_On this day a treaty of Peace and numerous trade pacts were formally agreed, signed and sealed by Tar-Elessar of the Reunited Kingdoms and Malik Hasib, High Ruler of Harad. The agreement vows both parties to allegiance and to co-ordinate their efforts against those who would continue the war. It brings to an end many years of enmity between Gondor and Harad, and fully opens a new chapter of prosperity among our peoples._

[note added in a different hand] _About _[next word obscured later by ink] _time too. _

* * *

_Late Summer F.A 11_

_Birth of __Leofd__æ__g __second son of King Éomer of Rohan and Queen ____Lothíriel_. All congratulations sent by both the Rulers of Gondor and the Prince and White Lady of Ithilien. 

* * *

_Spring F.A 13 _

_Peregrin and Meriadoc made wardens of the north march in a grant signed by Tar-Elessar but delivered by __Ólerydon_ _who acts as Steward in Arnor. Such a thing has never been seen before, but was little questioned by those who know of the Ring war, and the valour shown by those Periannath in Gondor's service. It is also meet that they govern country that they are most familiar with, as this allows them to extent strength to Bree and all other northern towns, while rising for Arnor if required as was the way at the Battle of Fornost._

[note added to the record in the king's hand and under-signed by his signet]_ This last strictly at their own wish, for The Shire is a free realm under Arnor's protection. No King nor Steward will force them and thus was the honour given._

* * *

** I know it's short, but I think it works its purpose. Any guesses as to who wrote the note on the first record?  
**

**Reviews?_  
_**


	41. An Innauspicious Beginning

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Blade Draco _and _Pazithia Gallifreya_ (who also reviewed last chapter).**

**There's a little reference to the Behind the Scenes of the Extended films in this chapter, see if you can spot it.  
**

* * *

The packs had been settled on the horses backs, farewells had been said, girths tightened. It was time.

The cavalcade set off at high morning. With them went Tower Guards and some of the Ithilien troops, forming an escort until the meeting with Éomer at the Entwash. At the head rode Elrond, looking every inch the Lord of Rivendell and unofficial High Council member. Behind them they left grumblers, saying that there was no precedent for the King the Steward and the Captain General to be absent all at once, or for the Prince of Dol Amroth to stand as regent during such absence. Elrond shook his head at that foolery, knowing full well that the last had been created out of desperation by a few of the other council members, who all knew perfectly well that Imrahil had served as Regent _and_ Lieutenant of the city during the War of the Ring.

Suldal tossed her head, fidgeting as he held her to a walk. The ground was flat and Pelennor empty, an occurrence which she had clearly connected with being able to gallop off at high speed. Slightly absently he switched his reins to one hand and stroked her neck, soothing her back to obedience.

"Personally I think she's got the right idea." Éowyn murmured from behind him.

Keeping his face pointing straight ahead Elrond gave the tiniest of hand signals showing his agreement. Inwardly though he wondered how badly the starchy society of Gondor had got to the Sheildmaiden, they all knew that none of the horses could gallop far or fast weighed down by the saddlebags, for as well as the pack-horses each rider carried various things behind them. Though it was annoying, it was also a necessity they all knew to be worthwhile for, if something happened to the pack-horses, they would rely on the supplies stored there.

A bay horse came pacing its way back across the field, dancing in different directions but generally going in a straight line. Elrond smiled as he recognised the rider and raised his hand in cheerful greeting to his appointed scout.

The man's face drowned that merriment, for worry clouded his grey eyes. Carefully Elrond made Suldal step closer to the bay, but Bergil had nothing to whisper in secret. Instead the son of Beregrond let his voice carry.

"Rabbit holes everywhere, no ground for riding beyond a walk."

Elrond heard a general groan run through the main group, if not the soldiers. He guessed all had been hoping for a short trot, or a fast amble, if only symbolic of them making great headway on the journey for those that watched.

"Single file, string the pack-horses." He issued the order without thinking, slipping easily back into the mantle of a commander. There was stamping and rustling as the others obeyed, then a low whistle from the rear. He nodded to Bergil "Lead us on".

It took an interminable time for the party to pick its way carefully across the north side of Pelennor, each with one eye on the horse in front, one on the ground, and ears straining for a shout. Which would mean halting carefully while waiting for the the unfortunate horse to extract its foot, with help, from the wretched hole. The threat of accident and accompanying disaster strained Elrond's nerves to a breaking point he hadn't realised was close, so close he nearly yelled when Mirwyn wondered aloud how much longer they were going to be doing this. It wasn't the question that irked him, more how loud the two and a half year-old's voice was in the silence. He twitched and half listened as Faramir hushed his daughter.

_It's going to be a long day_.

* * *

A piece of Minas Tirith was still visible to his eyes when the setting sun commanded them to make camp. Thankfully they were clear of all rabbit holes, but the damage had been done. All evening there were fractious confrontations between the guards, and no room for levity in the main party.

Elrond moved away from the others and ducked into his rough tent. Slowly he sank on the cot bed, wary of sitting to close to the edge and being unceremoniously tipped off. As amusing as the children would find it, he didn't need anything else to be awkward today. Exhaling bitterly he placed his head in his hands and hunched his shoulders defensively, a pose everyone would know as 'do not approach'

* * *

The boy lept away from the tent cloth as his grandfather moved and scampered back to the group around the fire, bounding in in a manner that made it clear he had news. Elboron grinned, while the adults shared indulgent looks before his father nodded to him .

"What is it Dari?"

"_Adar-Naneth_'s sulking."

His mother shook her head "He's just tired, tired and stressed, let him alone little mischief, and he'll be right by dawn."

* * *

When he looked back on the first weeks of their journey, up to the _Onodló_, Elrond found it hard to remember specifics. The days blurred one to the next, all full of long slow marches. At one point there was a brief rest-bite when they realised that they had entered Rohan and the occasional rock crag loomed out of nowhere, providing amusement for the children. But somehow, he found that he viewed it all as if from a long way away, as if he saw through someone else's eyes. Both times he had ridden this route, or something similar to it, it had been linked to sadness, an ache of loss biting at him. Once, most recently, when he thought he was saying his final farewells to his two youngest children. During the other, he'd been in deep shock, half his mind still standing on the burned plain, staring down in paralysis at Ereinion's body, trying to understand what he was seeing, and reconcile it with the fact that Isildur had taken the ring. He knew he'd been useless on that whole trip, being more of a danger and a dead weight than an active member of the company, Glorfindel ordering him into or out of the saddle as required at the time.

At least this time something had roused him...

"Dark memories?"

He jumped as Faramir came up alongside, noticed the concern in the man's eyes. Slowly he tilted his head, making a gesture that was both assent and negation "Sad and deep... The last two times I rode something like this path my heart was clouded."

Faramir made a small noise, his brow furrowed and his eyes far away for a second. Even as Elrond made to ask, the soft glance was back, easy and forgiving, with understanding tucked in the depths.

"I am the same, or was." The steward shuddered "The first time we all crossed the Pelennor to go to Emyn Arnen I was so wretchedly ill Beregrond had to mount behind me to keep me on my horse... All from a memory." Faramir shook his head

"Some memories can be comfort though" Aragorn joined them and from the look in his foster son's eye Elrond guessed he was thinking of his mother

"True" Faramir inclined his head, but more honestly than he would normally in Minas Tirith "If I had many of those..."

"TENTS" Éowyn's yell from the front interrupted Faramir's musing "Tents by the river!"

Elrond laughed at the exuberance in her voice and laughed harder as Aragorn shouted something in Rohirric which, given Éowyn's grin, was rather cheeky in meaning.

* * *

**Translations  
**

**Sindarin  
**

**_Onodló_= Entwash  
**

**Reviews anyone? And if you could attach some inspiration to them I'd be very grateful, mine has run off.**


	42. Camp by the Entwash

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf,_ _Blade Draco_, _faye50free_ and _Pazithia Gallifreya _for reviewing.**

**I estimate there are four or five more chapters before this story reaches its end, but there is a sequel bugging my brain so don't panic.**

**Enjoy...**

* * *

In one of the tents Éomer stood, gritting his teeth against frustration in a meeting for his final organisations regarding Rohan. He looked between the two marshals that faced him and sighed with relief, seeing acceptance, and almost agreement on their faces.

"You agree?" He asked in Rohirric.

First one then the other nodded "We agree."

Then Erkenbrand spoke, with seeming reluctance "Though it would be more seemly if you stayed in your Kingdom, Éomer King, rather than gallivanting off to the northern climes."

Éomer sighed, placing his hands flat on the map table and drawing on reserves of diplomacy he didn't know he had "If it concerns you so much that this seems to be a holiday, consider this; our people initially came from the northern lands, before we were given _Calenardhon_, which is now the Riddermark. Say rather this is a diplomatic visit to improve relations with those in the north who might speak of us in Dale." He sensed his wife enter the tent from their sleeping quarters, curtained off at the side. Slowly he breathed out, relaxing and feeling a weight lift of his shoulders as she came up to his side and matched the Marshals' gazes as she spoke.

"Also remember that Rivendell is known for its horses, both their talent under saddle and the purity of breeding, perhaps the very blood that our Mearas come from."

Éomer flicked her a look, noting her choice of pronoun more than her words. The marshals seemed equally surprised but the younger one lent over and whispered to the other. Erkenbrand frowned.

"_Loh_!"

Éomer spun almost on one foot as his first-born's voice rang out. He was frozen for a second as his mind registered the word. Then, with long, apparently unhurried strides, he crossed the tent and ducked outside.

* * *

Windfola came dancing through the tents, neat and nimble footed through the tight spaces despite going at a fast canter closer to a gallop. The bay coat glinted in the sun and the black mane and tail lept as if alive. Swaying like a willow with the turns yet rock steady in the saddle, as one of the Rohirrim should be, was his sister. She caught his eye and smiled. Then the beat of her horse's hooves changed and he took a rapid steps backward until the tent pressed on his back. The bay gelding flew over the small clearing at a shortened gallop, and, despite many injunctions not to throughout his life, he closed his eyes. Even in the darkness he could sense the held breath of the whole camp, watching, waiting. Half a squeak from one of the younger lads made him twitch and he forced himself to stay still and betray no fear. His sister wouldn't trample him, she wouldn't dare. But then he remembered.

_I didn't think she'd dare follow us into battle, and look what happened_

Normal codes meant little to his sister.

There was a loud scrape of hooves on the ground and stamp of one front foot very close by. Then he heard a collective whoosh of breath as those nearby sighed in relief. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking against the light. Windfola was planted just in front of him, so close their noses nearly touched. It was clear that the gelding had had to nearly sit in the grass in order to stop in time. Frowning he raised his gaze and met his sister's eyes. They laughed at him with an expression he was well used to from childhood.

"You know better than that, Sister, what if Windfola hadn't managed to stop?"

She shrugged slightly "Whatever it may look like Éomer, I know how to judge distance."

He ducked past Windfola's head, reaching up to her "You are..." In a quick movement he grabbed her arm and waist "A mule"

She struggled but he, using years of childhood games, hoisted her out of the saddle and sung her neatly over his shoulder

"Faramir! Faramir!"

He ignored her shouts for her husband and vile recriminations towards himself as he carried her across the clearing towards the hollow log that served as a water trough for the horses in this part of the camp.

* * *

Firefoot raised his head, bottom lip dripping water, and watched his master approach. He snorted and threw up his head as Éowyn gave a particularly loud yell to be rescued then danced backwards like an edgy colt.

* * *

Éomer walked up to the trough and spoke over his shoulder in their native tongue "Now, are you going to apologise for your behavior, or must I dunk you?"

She managed to land a kick firmly on his chest and he wheezed briefly before forcing air back into his lungs. In retribution he braced himself slightly and prepared to fulfil his threat.

"Let her go Éomer"

He turned his head in the direction of the voice. Faramir sat on his chestnut horse watching the scene in front of him. The Gondorian's eyes half laughed at it and there was a smile on his face. But underneath that was a light of life he hadn't seen before the war, a light of love. And it echoed what he'd seen in his sister since she'd left the Houses all those years before, what he felt with Thiri.

With a mock sigh he bent and set Éowyn's feet back on the ground, straightening and leaping away quickly to avoid the sharp smack that was a foregone conclusion. The sharp shove to one side indicated he hadn't quite been fast enough. Glaring at her he rubbed his sore arm, pretending to be oblivious to Lothíriel's and Elfwine's laughter behind him. Instead he focused on Faramir, his gaze accusing him for spoiling the fun. Then he shifted it beyond, down the paths between the tents and towards the flat plain.

Faramir twisted in his saddle to follow the look then Éomer felt the Steward's eyes rest back on him

"They're coming, but we raced ahead."

He nodded, knowing that pack horses weren't asked to go beyond a walk, and certainly not into a gallop, unless serious danger forced it. "Welcome then, _cnéowmǽg_" On giving the title he saw a flicker of surprise in Faramir's face. Partly because of that he waited only until the man had both boots on the ground before embracing him in a warriors hug, tight, strong, brief but full of feeling. Keeping and arm around Faramir's shoulder he steered him towards the main tent before giving him a gentle push in Lothíriel's direction

"I'll wait for the others to ride in, but I'm sure you and Thiri have much to catch up on."

Faramir gave a brief nod and a smile, a smile which seemed to have something hidden in it.

* * *

Boromir raised an arm in answer to Éomer's general hail to the group but otherwise made no reaction. Even as he dismounted he stayed tucked in the centre of the riders, hiding himself in their bustle. His eyes rested on one tent in particular, one which was almost closest to them. Waiting, waiting for a flash of gold hair against the tent cloth.

"BOROMIR!" The yell probably carried across the whole small camp and halfway to Edoras.

He laughed and bounded out of the group, grabbing his as she raced across the grass and whirling her into the air. At the hight of the arc he released his grip, catching her seconds later. Oblivious, or seeming so, to the shocked looks on the faces of the Rohirrim nearby Boromir set his youngest cousin back on her feet and gave her a half bow and a smile.

"Lothíriel _cyninge_"

She nodded to him, all poise and gravity in that motion, displaying a nobility, nay a royalty of motion he barely expected from the nineteen year old he'd left, and certainly not from the wild cygnet of a girl he'd grown up with. That Lothíriel had little wish to be entangled in the glories of court, much preferring tearing along the seashore on horseback.

In light of that he couldn't think of a better place for her to be for the rest of her life than here in Rohan, the land of horses, horse-lords and riding. Here she would be herself, and loved for it. And it was that which prompted him to give a bow of far greater depth than required in Éomer's direction. They had not always seen eye to eye on some things, but he was a good man, and clearly a fair king and husband. Smiling, he followed Lothíriel towards where Éomer stood, fulfilling his official capacity as a detached king welcoming visitors.

* * *

The camp was merry that night, though sensibly so. That, Aragorn was surprised about, having known enough soldiers go rather silly when they knew their commanders were going a different direction to them.

"There won't be a sober one among them tomorrow"

He turned to see Elrond standing just behind him, his eyes speculative as he too gazed through the paths made by the tents out onto the plains. Slowly his foster-father's words registered and he nodded slightly, returning his gaze outward but not really seeing. Instead he seemed to turn his thoughts and eyes in ward, thinking about where they would travel next.

All along the foothills of the Misty Mountains, from its southern end almost all the way to the northern tip. He'd passed a smattering of that country to know that it would be a hard, long, road. And it would be even worse, for winter came earlier to the north than even to Rohan, they would be walking right into it. He frowned up at the mountains which loomed over them to the west as if accusing them for the difficulties personally.

"_Ir 'rîw vain nâg  
Adh in ngynd narchannen ned i dhû chelegui  
Ir i loeg myrn adh i laiss narchannen uin gelaidh  
Bronad tarch mi throvan"_

Aragorn nodded sharply to the soft words and looked back towards Elrond "You do realise you are leading us right into it, don't you?"

"I know, Estel... We will be safe in Rivendell by Cormarë, before the worst of the winter bites the north."

He smiled slightly at his foster-father's tone,and slowly rose to his feet, tilting his head back toward the fire with a questioning look on his face. Elrond's face seemed to half twitch at the corners, but to an inexperienced person would seem blank.

"In deference to the possible weather we will be keeping some of the tents, and yes, I have told Faramir... _He_ is fine with it. The others don't know yet."

"Éowyn's probably guessed, if she's anything like her mother."

He ignored Elrond's curious look and slowly paced back to the fire.

* * *

All the other adults, and Eldarion, sat shoulder to shoulder in a small ring around it, the flames dancing and reflecting on their eyes, lighting their faces in strange ways. Elrond watched silently as Estel tucked himself back into the group, catching the tail end of a joke at his expense and thumping Boromir for it, nearly pushing the other man off the bench to complete his retaliation. The gesture was familiar to him. He'd seen Anárion do much the same to his father a few nights before his battle _and_ get away with it. Chuckling slightly he edged further to the shadows, circling around the group.

It took a few before he realised he was automatically assessing their faces for guile and trickery hidden in the eyes. He shook himself and stepped back into the light, tapping Beregond lightly on the shoulder. The captain glanced around, saw him and shifted over to make room with a grin and a friendly nod which Elrond returned as he sat. Absent-mindedly he used one foot to hook a stray end of log back into the fire and settled more comfortably on his perch, listening to the conversations of the group without making an effort to join in. _  
_

The fires had sunk almost to embers before he realised that many of their group where still around the fire. Boromir and Éomer where swapping stories, including Aragorn occasionally. However it seemed by the glazed looks on the other's faces that they remained there only to be polite, actually three quarters asleep where they sat.

"Bed"

Slowly, obediently, the group dispersed to their tents and Elrond reconsidered his idea to remind them that it was their last night in the cots for a long time. It would either lose them sleep or wake them up later. No, he wouldn't act like Elros, he'd wait until everyone had all of their wits before informing them. Then he glanced back at the fire and noticed the empty mead skin. That suggested that even in the morning, not everyone would be sharp With a shake of his head he gave up, remembering one of Elros's comments, or certainly the gist of it. _Alcohol is a great muffler for all unwanted sounds and makes men curiously forgetful._

* * *

**Translations**

**Rohirric**

**_Loh_= Horses  
**

**_cnéowmǽg _= Kinsman**

**_cyninge _= Queen**

**Sindarin**

**"_Ir 'rîw vain nâg  
Adh in ngynd narchannen ned i dhû chelegui  
Ir i loeg myrn adh i laiss narchannen uin gelaidh  
Bronad tarch mi throvan"_**

**"When winter first begins to bite**  
**and stones crack in the frosty night,**  
**when pools are black and trees are bare,**  
**'tis evil in the Wild to fare."_  
_**

**My translation (checked by Dreamingfifi)**

**Reviews welcome  
**


	43. Beyond the Onodló

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Glory Bee_, _Blade Draco_ and _Pazithia Gallifreya._**

**This was all supposed to be in a longer chapter, but there was such a significant theme change that I'm cutting it into two._  
_**

* * *

"_Ai_ it's cold"

Elrond pulled his grandson straight in Suldal's saddle and tightened his arm hold around the boy before twisting briefly to check on the rest of the party fording the river behind him. Asfaloth had gone straight in and was striding across confidently, Arwen barefoot in the stirrups like the rest of them and also managing to keep her dress out of the water. Faramir was following her, holding Mirwyn in front of him and gritting his teeth against the still chill water as it splashed up. The half-elf sighed and sent Suldal on again, belatedly noticing she'd paused when he turned. He'd hoped the river would be relatively warm especially as it was late summer and they were as far as they could safely get from the melt water sources. No such luck. So far the entire expedition seemed to be dogged by bad luck, first the rabbit holes and now this.

With a snort Suldal scrambled onto the other bank and took a few half trot steps forward. He let her, knowing she must resettle her feet. Then he reined her in and turned her about, knowing by the splashing and snorting that the train of pack horses were making their way across the river. Slightly up stream of them rode Éomer, clearly trusting Firefoot to be sure-footed on the rocky bottom of the river. Yet Elrond noticed that he gripped tight with his knees, and while keeping both hand on the reins also had one close to his belt dagger, ready to slash the ties between the pack-horses should one get into difficulty.

He forced himself to loosen his muscles and dismounted, looping Suldal's reins onto her pommel just enough so she wouldn't put a foot through them. She looked at him and half rolled an eye as he swung Eldarion down before giving her a good-natured slap on the rump to release her to graze. With an affronted look she pranced off a few steps, then dropped her head down the grass and began to eat.

* * *

Slowly the others joined them and he looked over to the far bank just in time to see Bergil and Haleth send their horses into the water, with Lothíriel bringing up the rear of the group. He smiled at that, for she was wearing breeches just as her husband did, with scant care for the talk that the Gondorians would carry back with them. But it was more practical, especially as she was one of the group who could swim. Though now he thought about it most of them could swim, save Bergil and Éomer. However swimming in a lake was one thing, swimming against a current quite another. Common spoken knowledge, but he'd known people find it out the hard way with dire consequences, hence the spreading of those who could swim well throughout the column.

"Hup, up"

Éomer's sharp shout preluded the arrival of the first pack horse. Placing one foot slightly down the bank Elrond grasped the bridle with one hand and steadied the animal as it scrambled up on to the dry ground. Slowly he led it forward, allowing each of the others to do the same with the following ones. But there was one difference, for as each of them circled back to help their second or third or even fourth packhorse, he stayed with the front one. It was a plan that had been agreed the afternoon before, one he'd seen used many times with success.

As the last horse cleared the bank he broke into a half run, making the pack-horses trot to keep up. Despite the jouncing it gave the burdens, and he dreaded to think what they'd find when they were opened, it was worth the risk. Preventing the horses' muscles stiffening was key, as was preventing a chill. And this seemed to do both.

After a little while he heard a whistle on the air. Slowing he looked over his shoulder and saw the riders following, now catching him up. Neatly he untied the lead rein of the horse he had run by and tossed it, with an accuracy of Cirdan's teaching, into Aragorn's hand. Vaulting up into Suldal's saddle he glanced around for Eldarion, finally spotting him on Hasufel's back as the pony trotted along beside Bergil's mount. Catching the young soldiers eye he gave a half salute, which was returned with a smile. Then he waited, wondering who would be first to notice, out of those who did not know.

* * *

It was Elfwine who called out "What of the guards and most of the tents?"

Elrond half glanced over, enough to see the young boy's frown, but left it to another to answer as he wove his way to the head of the group. Unsurprisingly it was Éomer who filled the gap, lapsing into Rohirric with his son as they debated. He smiled at that, the fact that a young boy had the wits to realise danger. Laughter broke out as Aragorn caught the tail of Elfwine's final remarks and translated them for the others

"The Marshals can't be comfortable with this... In answer that, they're not, and neither are my Great Council. But..." And Elrond heard an almost boyish relish creep into the man's voice "No-one but Imrahil was told and by the time the rest find out, we'll be too far north for them to do anything..."

"Except send a message to Óleridon, thereby ruining any hopes you had of a formality free winter." That was Boromir, sounding unusually pragmatic and sensible

"It's Ólerydon, not Óleridon"

He turned his head at Eldarion's reprimand and gestured at his grandson, first to be silent and then to ride up beside him. Waiting until Hasufel hand caught up and carefully collecting Suldal's stride to keep it that way, he spoke, his voice low enough so only elven ears would hear and using Sindarin.

"Chide not your elders, child. Boromir did well pronouncing that name."

Eldarion huffed "He never says _y_ correctly."

Elrond ignored the tone "Neither do most Gondorians, save possibly the family of Dol Amroth." He glanced at the boy "What would you feel like if someone corrected your Quenya pronunciation, in front of a crowd of people who knew you?

He watched the boy shift in the saddle, his face shifting colour. Then came the mumbled answer.

"I'd be hurt, hurt and angry

"Yes, so what do you think Boromir feels like?"

Now Eldarion was looking anywhere but the group, staring over the land for a distraction "The same"

Elrond nodded silently, knowing the message had been understood and returned his attention to the direction they travelled, allowing Eldarion to fall back into the group.

* * *

"You didn't have to scold him"

Boromir's voice came out of the dusk as he knelt by the tinder, carefully persuading the steel to spark. When he answered it was slowly, deliberately, matching his words to his strikes with the flint "I did... Now he has the excuse of youth to use, but when he's older, what then? If he mocks someone when he's an adult, he'll be seen as cruel, prejudiced, more elf than man. I don't want that to happen."

Finally the flame caught and he sat back on his heels, watching the orange glow dance into life. Almost hypnotised he watched it, seeing figures and shapes in its flow. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him start and he twisted, just catching the wrong name before it left his lips. Boromir looked down at him, eyes slightly apologetic

"You seemed a long way away there..."

He nodded "I was." Slowly, dusting grass off his breeches, he rose to his feet and pocketed the flint and steel "Are they back yet?"

Boromir nodded, just on the outside of the camp gutting the catch, which I think might be hare."

Elrond knew he was smiling as he watched the other man "Then indeed your brother has a keen eye, as does Estel." He gave a half nod and moved away, unsurprised to glance back and see Boromir take his previous position save the man's legs were crossed. For all the relaxed attitude of the scene though, some thing was wrong. His back was to stiff and straight. As he walked outward he thought back to the glimpse of those grey eyes he'd seen. There had been calm, yes, but it had been a mask only. Underneath was trepidation and fear. He paused as he thought, then nodded to himself and carried on.

* * *

He'd been told he'd find the two rangers sitting on the grass a few meters from the rough camp rolls and tents. But after walking nearly a full circle, he hadn't seen them. He frowned, turning his keen eyes outward, scanning the ground near and far. Nothing. Finally he gave in and whistled softly, a call he knew Estel would recognise if not Faramir.

There was no answer.

Well, no direct vocal answer at any rate. However what he had taken to be two hillocks moved slightly, one revealing a flash of auburn. He shook his head and strode up to them. In a single annoyed movement he'd pulled Aragorn up by the scruff of his cloak and shirt, nudging Faramir onto his back with a foot an instant later. His gaze was clearly expressive enough to not need words, for both men's faces lost their smiles and became apologetic almost at once. With a stiff nod he released his foster son and made it clear they should be back in camp, with the hares. But as they went to leave he stopped themselves

"Boromir is nervous, but I don't know why..."

Aragorn nodded "He knows we are going towards Lothlórien, Galadriel scared him when we were there, as much by what she said as how she said it."

He nodded, a small smile tugging his mouth "She can have that effect on people."

It took until after they had gone for the full import of the words to settle. When they did he was surprised at just how many of Maedhros's choicest words he could remember, hissing them through clenched teeth. She'd been told time and time and time again NOT to use _ósanwë_ with those not accustomed to it, and especially those wary of Elves, as Boromir was. It was strange enough if you were another elf, once capable of hearing, but he wasn't surprised Boromir had been terrified. He shook his head, feeling quite as bewildered as his actions must make him seem.

* * *

"I can hear singing"

The bemusement in his sister-in-law's voice was enough to break Boromir's nervous compulsion to look eastwards, always seeking, yet dreading the sight of golden trees. Encouraging Karbazîr to start moving again closed the gap between the pair of them, cocking his head to listen better. Yes, there definitely was a song carrying on the breeze, but the horses had given no warning, nor did the elves seem worried. A riddle worthy of a hobbit.

"Aragorn?"

The man seemed to hear the question in his call, for he twisted in the saddle to face them, but with a hand he pointed onward

"The Nimrodel..."

Lothirel also turned "I thought she was a person?"

Aragorn nodded "An Elleth, one of the Silvan folk. She loved Amroth, after who your home is named. It was for her jumped overboard when the ship lost its moorings. She lived by the stream, so legends say, and it carries her singing to this day."

"Oh"

Éowyn's brow was furrowed and Boromir could tell she was surprised. Rohan was a gregarious community, very few lived in solitude. He wasn't so surprised this time, but remembered feeling exactly the same when he'd first heard Legolas tell the tale.

* * *

The bank was thick with soft green grass. Faramir regretted they couldn't camp there, looking forward to a change from rough stone and tree roots. The first maxim, a ranger must never complain, slipped into his brain and he sighed, taking out his annoyance by tugging, rather too hard,on his boot. Thankfully he managed not to either let go of it, or fall flat on his back as it flew off. Grasping both in one hand he dipped a bare foot in the water, wary of startling fish, and more practically, of the water being freezing cold. Instead the liquid that flowed around his ankles and lapped at his shins was slightly warm, pleasant for wading in. As he waded he felt all the lack of sleep and general exhaustion in him trickle down to his heel and vanish, as if it was being washed away. Frowning he paused and bent to dip his free hand in the water. The aches and stiffness of holding reins for so long trickled away with the water.

"Watch out!"

As the bay stallion reared midstream he leapt sideways for the bank, but not fast enough. Brego's hooves splashed down and a back flowing wave caught him off balance. Despite the shallowness of the water he went completely under for a moment, then surfaced spluttering and coughing.

As he picked himself up he heard Elrond call "Any damage done?"

He raised a hand in acknowledgement as he struggled to his feet "I'm fine, I'm fine" Soaked but fine. Annoyed by the tickling of his damp hair and hood he axiomatically shook his head, trying to move them off his neck. It worked for a moment, then cloth and hair fell back to their regular positions. With a sigh he padded out of the water and surveyed the damage. Nothing was ruined, thank goodness, except his valiant efforts to keep his boots dry. With a sigh, he sank down on the thick grass and watched as the last horses were led across, regretfully without any more antics.

* * *

Quiet and apologetic, Aragorn led the chestnut up to its owner, handing the reins over without ceremony. To his surprise Faramir met his eyes with a smile and a nod

"It wasn't your fault, Aragorn, he was just fooling around."

He glanced back at the stream, thinking as he spoke "I had thought he was too tired for such antics, I had forgotten the restorative powers of the Nimrodel." Restorative powers which had saves his life, or as good as, many times

There was a sighing of grass behind him and he didn't even have to turn to know that Faramir was on his feet, looking over his shoulder.

When he spoke, the man's voice was soft, almost reverent "I thought I was imagining it, when the tiredness seemed to just seep away..."

Aragorn shook his head "The song that the river caught is one of restorative qualities and healing, Faramir. I do not know when she sang it, but it is remembered by the water, the element that Nimrodel had most in kin with."

Two sharp squeals interrupted him and he turned his head to see Lothíriel and Boromir ankle deep in the stream, alternately ducking either Mirwyn or Leo almost under, then pulling them out and swinging them into the air. He felt Faramir tense briefly, then relax as the squeals dissolved into wild giggles. Grinning, he shared a look with Arwen, who returned his smile. On the edges of the group the horses dropped their tethered heads to crop the sweet grass

"A brief rest-bite, for all of us"

Faramir's voice was still soft but Aragorn jumped, almost because of it. Slowly he drew a breath and let it out again before speaking

"Yes... and I have a feeling we'd better make the most of it while we can, the road gets harder and harsher from all perspectives when we move on, there's still the Celebrant to swim" He shrugged slightly, throwing off his cares and facing his friend and steward "But for now, lets forget all that and enjoy our surroundings ... _Melloneg_"

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Melloneg_= My friend**

**Quenya**

**_ósanwë_= Exchange of thought (i.e. Telepathy)**

**Reviews please**


	44. The Darkness of the North

**Thanks to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Blade Draco_, _Glory Bee_ and _Pazithia Gallifreya _for reviewing. **

**Sorry this took a while...enjoy.**_  
_

* * *

As the elf stared up at the mountain his face was contorted with pain and rage, his gaze nearly black. He sat rigid in the saddle, stiffer than a pole, save for his hands which clenched spasmodically on the reins. Gradually one slid down to grip fiercely onto the hilt of his sword, his thumb stroking the pommel in an almost speculative way. His teeth were set, and if his lips hadn't been tight they would have exposed as a snarl. But in total contrast to this, a single pearly tear slid down his cheek

All this only a ranger's eyes would notice. And they did. Unobtrusively Aragorn took hold of the pack horse's lead rein, guiding them, and the rest of the group, past Elrond and onward onto the plain, silently giving the mountain a salute. What he didn't notice was that a few of the others copied him in their own manner before falling into a traveling line over the rough ground, riding with half a horse length between them. Like mice escaping from a cat, they crept along and Aragorn found I hard to keep his eyes forward, some fascination begging him to look back on those sleek grey slopes, to raise his eyes up to the thorn-like pinnacle, to trace the path until it disappeared into the cleft of the rock. He shivered slightly and forced himself to concentrate, driving memories of freezing wind and wolf-howls from his mind.

As soon as the ground evened up he found that Boromir had come up beside him, his face a study of some emotion between perplexity and annoyance.

"Why do we not take Caradhas Pass?"

He sighed, seeing once again the bullheaded Gondorian he had disagreed with in the fellowship and jerked his head back towards the mountain. "They do not call it "The Cruel" for nothing, up there the weather can, and does, change in an instant. Though it is mid-summer down here, in the heights there would still be snow and unpredictable winds. Which brings me to my second point, little grows on Caradhas's slopes, we would not be able to carry enough forage for the horses. He stopped and looked back the way they had come "And if we were to go that way, Boromir, we would be unlikely to see Elrond or Arwen again... They have never travelled that road for as long as I have lived, and longer. Nor will they ever."

Finishing his lecture on that note he sent Brego onward at an awkward jog trot, oblivious to the frown of Boromir, and Faramir remonstrating silently with his brother through a furious exchange of hand signs.

* * *

As the two horses closed the distance with the group it was to see one of the pack animal spook. Suddenly the entire group dissolved into a mass of snorting and stamping, with one of the stallions making a wild plunge in the centre of the chaos. Fighting her bit Suldal scuttled to an awkward stop but turned about obediently to face the fray.

Elrond felt his heart still thumping in his chest as he held his mare steady with legs and hands, feeling her desperate desire to flee. She'd read the weather earlier than he, had been restless the whole time they'd halted. Now he made up for lost time, issuing orders in the sharpest voice he had, one that hadn't been used since Dagorlad, when he desperately tried to restrain Oropher and his elves.

"Pitch camp, now"

Unbidden his eyes strayed beyond them, to where boiling black clouds tumbled off the Misty Mountains and down onto the plain, spreading and thickening like some Morgoth-created mist. As if from a distance he heard Faramir swear under his breath, a sign of just how bad this was. Suldal fought again and he bent her around in a tight circle, forcing her to listen to his instructions when he changed the direction and pirouetted again. By the time he was focused on the others once more everyone was dismounted, the adults grappling with the buckles on packs and unrolling cloth, while the three boys scampered over a small area, kicking rocks away from the grass. To anyone else it would seem like an extended game, but he saw a slight hurriedness to their movements, a meaningless look over the shoulder that spoke of fear, the fear that would eventually paralyse them like deer that looked at a snake. He knew that fear too well, felt it now as he faced Caradhras and, drawing his sword, raised it in pointless but moral raising defiance.

* * *

Four tents bunched together on the plain, as close as they could. In the centre the horses stood, each picketed with two ropes instead of the usual single. The tents themselves had used up every other scrap of rope in efforts to tie the loose cloth tight.

The wind struck first, slamming into the cloth and making it bulge inwards under the force. Then came the rain, hammering at the waxed cloth and trying to find gaps. The racket it made reminded him more of hail as he crouched close to one of the windward edge of their tent, having forced the other three to take the safer side. He glanced over to see Aragorn sitting cross-legged and straight backed, as far as the slope of the cloth would allow. Arwen sat close to her husband, her head bowed, and shoulders shaking slightly. Eldarion he couldn't see, save for a small ball of clothes in the corner. Outside he could hear restless stamping and snorts from the horses, knew they wanted to flee away from the storm, yet were also bound by herd instinct to stay together and shelter.

He lifted his head, listening as the wind wailed around the tents, waiting silently for what would surely come next.

_Crash_

The thunder roared above them and despite himself he clapped his hands over his ears. Almost as an echo the horses screamed in fright and started to lash out, he could hear the thumps of front feet striking. What they struck he wasn't sure, and didn't actually want to know.

As the clap faded he lowered his hands to find something in his lap. Something which quivered like an arrow which has just hit a target, or like a leaf in a high wind. Gently he scooped Eldarion onto his lap, holding the boy close as he whimpered.

"Hush Little West-star, I'm here... you're safe." Still murmuring he looked over to Aragorn, just in time to catch hand signals flashing in his direction

_Have you ever known a storm like this?_

He nodded and signed an explanation _Once, on the coast_. However he decided not to mention that said storm had been the easterly edge of _Akallabeth_, the destruction of Númenor. That would be too frightening for them, as it was for him, wondering who or what distant unfortunate had unleashed the Valar's wrath on themselves.

Softly, gently, he began to sing, voicing a song he had heard only once.

"_Aiya Manwe Súlimo  
Selman mana pálelyelme  
Lá rú-acárielme lyen  
Nálme lelyarinceli _

_Inyo etya-noldova nánye  
nan vanda-cáro uan  
Uan núro arano  
i cestaner i númen  
pilwen ar milmen_

_Aiya Manwe Númeheru  
Ame manya; lá rú-acárielme  
Ar a pusta i húro  
Nálme sostaine, Tár  
Sostanes istalóranen _

_A Tár, a pusta i húro ette lanne-mardesse  
A lave serie i hínin. "_

As he finished he noted a certain irony, for the song had been composed by Elendil, during that first night on the shores of Arda, while the destruction of Númenor still continued to disturb the seas and the wind. Now here he was, thoroughly land bound, comparing a wind to that of ___Akallabêth_ and he chose that song to sing. He shook his head slightly and shifted Eldarion so he rested in a position that was easier on his arms. The only response of the sleeping boy was an apparently instinctive snuggle into his chest. Silently he stroked the black hair back from his grandson's face, still humming gently.

* * *

The winds faded just before dawn. As light crept over the plain the groups slowly crept out of their tents, looking around like nervous rabbits. Everything still stood, and perhaps even more remarkably, all the horses were still accounted for, though Elrond noted quite a few snapped ropes hanging from headcollars and many white rimmed rolling eyes as the riders wove through the group to find and separate their own horses. He waited on the edge, having had his offer of help firmly rebuffed by Éomer.

"Lord Elrond?

The voice was so timid he expected to find a young child speaking but in stead turned his head to see Bergil standing half a step behind his shoulder. He nodded, both in greeting and permission to carry on

The boy took a deep breath before speaking "Not to sound ungrateful, sir, but when will we get to Imladris?"

He paused for a moment before answering "A month and a half I think."

Bergil sighed "In one go?"

Elrond shook his head "No lad, there are milestones of a sort to mark by, nine days and we'll reach the next one, then ten to the Old Ford where we meet the last members of our party. The longest bit will be over the High Pass, but after that we'll be there safe and sound." He looked away as he spoke, letting his eyes drift aimlessly over the land, thinking of anything but exactly where they were next heading.

* * *

Nine days was too short, or went too quickly. Whichever it was Aragorn wasn't anywhere near ready to stand where he was. A beautiful cairn rose from the ground in front of him. It had obviously been made in a relative hurry, using whichever stones could be found in the local area. But the stones did not cause an awkward mismatch, far from it. No, they made a beautiful patchwork pattern, with all the connotations that inspired. On the side he faced there was one stone which had obviously been hewn and scraped to form a flat slab. Tengwa characters were carved on them and he translated for the rest of the party

"Here lie the escort of Isildur, and his three eldest sons, all slain by orcs on Hísimë 5th in the second year of the Third Age"

He bowed his head and touched his forehead in salute. Behind him he heard the hiccup of a strangled sob and knew that at least one of the others, probably Faramir, was as deeply touched by this as him. There was the slightest shift of leaves next to him, then he heard Elrond's low voice, thick with pain and disgust.

"Three survivors, out of 200 men." He watched as the half-elf shook his head "Two of those had been sent off before the battle began, to bring Narsil to Imladris."

Aragorn waited, then prompted him to go on "The third?"

Elrond's eyes were pointing straight ahead now, apparently staring at the cairn "Estelmo. Thranduil's elves found him when they arrived and started moving the dead. He'd been stunned by a club, trying to protect Eldur. Then..." Aragorn heard him draw a ragged breath "He told us he was conscious before the end of the battle, but when Elendur was stabbed he deliberately managed to fall on top of Estelmo, shielding him. The boy told us that Elendur's last words were to him '_Qui nat qualin, nauvat cuina_'... Play dead and live."

Aragorn nodded, noting that the translation from Quenya was given in a distracted fashion, as if Elrond wasn't really thinking about what he said. The elf's eyes pointed out towards the river, looking at something. Aragorn turned but as far as he could see there was nothing and no-one in sight. Slowly, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by what he faced here in this simple clearing, he edged back to the group and reclaimed Brego's reins from Éomer. He slipped them back over the horse's head and half grasped a lock of mane in preparation to mount.

Then he stopped, and to the onlookers, seemed to crumple against Brego's neck. Arwen, on that side, did not intervene, and warned the others off with a look.

* * *

Aragorn pressed his forehead just below the crest of Brego's neck, breathing in the gentle smell of the horse. It soothed him, grounding his whirling mind. He felt Brego shift to support his weight and as his legs seemed to start shaking lent even harder, though unintentionally, on the stallion. But after a moment he realised it wasn't his legs that were shaking, or rather it wasn't just his legs, he was shivering all over. For his mind's eye showed him the slaughter that might have laid here. Another Sarn Ford, multiplied eight-fold. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realised what the elves must have found.

"Estel..."

Elrond's voice was soft and he half turned his head, so it lay parallel with

Brego's neck. The elf's eyes were soft, with a gentleness he remembered seeing as a little boy when he was upset

"You must move on."

He nodded and slowly edged back along Brego's side before swinging up into the saddle. In a distant, detached way he nodded that the movement wasn't awkward, showing none of his inner turmoil to the others. His mind still very much settled on past things he acted on reflex as Brego followed the others, settling in the saddle and allowing the horse his head.

But he turned his head, his eyes seeming drawn to the cairn until a stand of thick trees finally blocked if from his view.

* * *

Translations

Quenya

**_Aiya Manwe Súlimo  
Selman mana pálelyelme  
Lá rú-acárielme lyen  
Nálme lelyarinceli _**

**_Inyo etya-noldova nánye  
nan vanda-cáro uan  
Uan núro arano  
i cestaner i númen  
pilwen ar milmen_**

**_Aiya Manwe Númeheru  
Ame manya; lá rú-acárielme  
Ar a pusta i húro  
Nálme sostaine, Tár  
Sostanes istalóranen _**

**_A Tár, a pusta i húro ette lanne-mardesse  
A lave serie i hínin_**

**Ah Manwe Lord of the Winds  
Why do you pound us so  
we have done you no wrong  
simple travelers that we are**

Exile blood I may be,  
but oath taker I am not  
Nor one of the Kings Men  
Those that sought the West  
for plunder and greed

Ah Manwe, Lord of the West  
Take pity on us, who have done no wrong  
And cease this tempest's howling  
We are frightened lord,  
Frightened by unknowing

Ah Lord, calm the winds about these tents  
Let the children rest in peace.

**(Written by me, translated by Dreamingfifi)  
**

**Reviews anyone?**


	45. The final leg

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Pazithia Gallifreya_, _Blade Draco_, _Glory Bee_ and _faye50free_ for reviewing. **

**It was nice to have an invasion of reviews all in one day. This chapter was fiddly to finish, hence why it's taken longer to get up than I would normally like, but enjoy.**

* * *

The pass was rough, the rocks on either side of the road tall and jagged. Though the road was flat it too seemed to have patches where it would be all too easy to trip and be flung onto the hard surface. And even when it was most definitely smooth and the sun shone, there was a harshness, a coldness to the land.

Legolas sighed, he'd never got used to being surrounded by so much stone, one of the reasons why he avoided Minas Tirith as much as he could and stayed out in Ithilien. Nor could he fathom why Aragorn, Arwen and Elrond were all so contented there, for all were children of the country, grown to love trees and green open spaces. Mortal adaptability would account for one, but neither of the other two. He shook his head and shivered as wind whistled along the cleft. It wasn't the cold, more the sound, icy, dangerous, dark. And yet it was bright and sunny all around. He didn't understand the mountains.

"They're not all bad, elf" The gruff voice came from behind him.

He didn't turn his head to answer, knowing Gimli would hear him anyway "Not to you no, but they are not my home."

"Nor is this top-side mine"

He gave up, realising that it would be fruitless work, from his perspective, to make the dwarf understand.

* * *

Elrond called a halt at around mid-day, just after they had passed an obelisk shaped stone on either side of the path. Legolas swung Gimli down then dismounted himself, keeping one hand on the end of Arod's reins as he unsaddled the gelding. While Arod scraped on the end of his tether for forage Legolas accepted his share of the cram and chewed it dully, wishing that it was the more heartening, and by extension satisfying, lembas. Passing the time as he munched he looked through the gathered group. Elrond seemed to be paying no attention to them, instead perched on a rock slightly off and above the path, looking onward. Legolas studied him for a while, wondering what it was in the _Gelydh_ that made them so easy in any country. Then the half elf suddenly seemed to become aware of his scrutiny and jumped down from the rock with almost as much fluidity as one of the _Tawarwaith_ from a tree. Legolas barely stopped himself from nodding with over-adult approval, remembering the sever difference in their ages at the last moment. Elrond caught his eye slightly and he thought he saw a smile on the other elf's face. However when he looked again it was gone.

A tap on the shoulder made him break his thoughts and gaze, turning instead to see Boromir standing over him.

"If you don't want that, then I'll finish it for you."

With great effort he swallowed the lump that filled his mouth "What would Elrond say to that? Pinching other's rations off them..."

Boromir glanced around warily at the mention of Elrond's name, then crouched down in the lee of a nearby rock "I do not like to see good food going to waste."

Legolas nearly choked again "This is more a chewing exercise than food. _A, Abonnen_, have you forgotten the lembas of Lothlórien that we ate?"

Boromir laughed "Now this little Woodelf becomes proud and wants high food." Then his face changed and became less laughing "No Legolas, I have not forgotten, though I ate little of it... But I have also subsisted for four weeks on almost nothing more than Hard-tack, which rates worse than possibly even orc bread."

He frowned, puzzled by the strange term "Hard-tack?"

Boromir nodded, then shot him a glance "You've never been to sea long enough for fresh food to fail have you?"

Legolas dropped his head, feeling embarrassed, though he had no real reason to be as far as he could see "No"

"Hard tack is a biscuit that we eat as a staple aboard ship, indeed that is its other name; Ship-biscuit."

"To eat it dry is to crack your teeth, to soak it is to scoop up a tasteless stodgy porridge" Faramir had also ambled over and perched next his bother, managing to look more comfortable doing so "Be grateful that your cram has some berry seasoning it, for we rarely got that much"

The elf studied the piece of cram that still lay in his hand, seeing it in a very different light. Slowly he chewed the last bit, finally actually recognising the juniper taste that flavored the meal of the biscuit

Elrond's voice mad him jump and he sprang to his feet in alarm, reaching to free his bow from his shoulder. Faramir's hand rested on his shoulder briefly, stopping him and forcing him to pay attention to his surroundings rather than just react. He blinked and saw the three boys scampering back to the group, past the strange obelisk. Judging by the dust and marks they'd been playing a rough game of tag and been sent further away to do so.

"That's better"

He turned his head to spot Elrond on the further edge of the group, walking out to the obelisk. When the elf got there Legolas heard him raise his voice to be clearly heard by everyone

"This stone marks half-way along the High Pass. Now we are _all_ on the west side of it... " There were a few chuckles and laughing glances thrown at the boys when Elrond said that "Then in around seven days we should be at Rivendell.

The group broke into excited chattering as they re-saddled the horses and prepared to move off. But Legolas was quiet, vaulting up without thinking and equally automatically sticking out his leg as a mounting block for Gimli who scrambled up with decent fluency for one not used to riding and out-sized by his mount

* * *

"Ride next to Elrond would you? I want to talk to him."

His smile was tight, and he was glad the dwarf couldn't see it. Still, Elrond led the party, and to be up beside him meant he would be out of this land of rocks sooner. He sent Arod forward and hailed the older elf. Elrond turned in response and nodded to them

"Legolas, Gimli."

Legolas returned the gesture as, he sensed, did Gimli. Then, with the barest of courtesies the questions began.

"That obelisk, was it done by your folk? For I did not see one of our marks on it."

Now that intrigued even him and he glanced over to see Elrond's reaction. The elf looked amused as he answered, amused in a way that suggested he held a secret.

"Then you were fooled by its wear and the written markings...Like your Doors it was carved by Narvi for Celebrimbor."

"Why would an elf mark a mountain pass?" There was suspicious in that gruff voice and Legolas sighed, though Elrond seemed patient enough

"I believe it was sometimes used as a northern meeting place between the smiths of Eregion and the Dwarves, though I've never been near such a meeting, nor seen such a travelling party."

Legolas frowned "Did they not pass through Imladris?"

"Imladris was built, or the first part was, the year Celebrimbor died and Moria was shut. I saw little of this side of Eregion before then."

There was a dead silence for a moment, only for it to be broken by laughter from one of the boys. When Gimli spoke his voice was slow and deliberate, Legolas could tell he was feeling his way, thinking as he spoke

"You mention the Silver-Hand again. Tell me, were all your stone-carvers men? Or did they, like us, have some women artisans?"

"They were all Ellyn on this side of the sea Gimli." Elrond's voice seemed surprisingly kind, as if he was telling bad news. However Legolas judged that to be the right approach as Gimli muttered into his beard. Calmly Elrond held up a hand as if to forestall comments and carried on apparently regardless "There is one who carves, in Valinor... _Ondonyel_ they call her, Stone-singer. It is said she carves statues so life-like they have been mistaken for people.

Legolas peered over and deciphered a small smile on the other Elf's face "Who is she then?"

The answer was cryptic, not what he expected from Elrond "_Ammë Ostoiva_"

He frowned, recognising that confounded_ Golodh _tongue, but not understanding a word

"_Ammë?" _Faramir's voice came from behind "That's 'Mother' but I don't know_ Ostoiva"_

_"Odog _is Seven in Sindarin" Aragorn supplied

Legolas was surprised to see Elrond turn in his saddle and nod, mostly to Faramir "Precisely, it translates as 'Mother of Seven'...

Even Legolas knew who that was "Nerdanel..."

Elrond smiled, and there was a tinge of sadness to it "Yes, Nerdanel. Daughter of Mahtan, wife of Fëanor, mother to seven sons..."

His voice trailed off and Legolas knew what he left unsaid, none on that roll-call, save Nerdanel and Mahtan, were still alive. The terrible death list of the Oath. He was no Noldo, berated them for their stupidity, but even he could mourn the deaths of some of the seven.

* * *

Listening to the row behind him Elrond was struggling not to laugh. It was ridiculous, that a simple mile-passing game should trigger such debate

"I said it right!" That was Eldarion "_Galadh_, it begins with G. That is a _Galadh_"

Elboron countered "No, it's a _tree, _starts with _T"_

"_Ӕsc_ actually" Eomer spoke with all fairness in his voice, but it just confused

Three then answered at once, forming an impromptu chorus that was carried to the sky, bouncing off the trunks that surrounded the narrow path and spooking birds from the branches "Too many languages"

And they were right, he thought. There were six languages that could possibly be used in the game, and with each having a different word for the same thing it led to chaos and arguments. But neither could they or he, for it would fall in his jurisdiction, declare that only one language was right, for in actuality they all were.

He shook his head, then clamped his legs on as Suldal danced and fought. But the same wildness filled him as he recognised where they were and, heedless of risk, he sent her up the steep ridge that faced them at a canter, righting her into a half rear at the level top. Even as her feet came down he took his turn, using the traditional Sindarin words to start the clue.

"_Henig tirion nad i _starts with M, H or B"

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Gelydh_= Noldor (Silvan Sindarin word plural)**

**_Tawarwaith= _Silvan Elves (lit. Tree-folk)**

**_A, Abonnen_= Ah, human (lit. one born after)**

**_Galadh_= Tree**

**_Henig tirion nad i_= My little eye watches something which...**

**Quenya**

**_Ondonyel_= Stone-Singer**

**_Ammë Ostoiva_= Mother of Seven**

**Rohirric**

**_Ӕsc=_Tree (specifically an ash tr**


	46. Imladris

**Thank you to_ Kaisaan Greenleaf_ , _Blade Draco_ and _Pazithia Gallifreya_ for reviewing.**

**Quick note; Everything beyond _G__ewilcumian_ to the end of Éowyn's point of view is spoken in Rohirric, the section with Elrond and Erestor in Sindarin. All other languages should be noted or self-explanatory.**

* * *

Faramir stared as he topped the ridge Below him lay Imladris, the waterfall glinting crystal and the pool below it seeming some strange silver gold as the light caught it. All the valley was decked in the colours of early autumn, honey-golds and oranges. And amidst all of that colour the the house was almost invisible, yet shone out with a beauty all of its own. He'd heard tales of Elven realms from Adûnathor; Edhellon, Gondolin, Himrig, those others beyond the sea. But This, this was as beautiful as any of the stories. He shook his head slightly, no this was more beautiful than all of those, ten times over, those places he had dreamed about, this he could actually see, was actually going to go down to and stay in.

"Steady brother, before your eyes fall out of your head." Boromir was beside him and as he looked over he saw his brother's eyes were glowing with joy of some sort. The cautionary tone was belied by that, and the following words "I think you'll like it here, I know I did, even though it's not martial enough for my tastes."

He smiled at the slight confession then returned his gaze to the valley, drinking it in.

* * *

Elrond felt rather than saw Aragorn and Arwen come up on either side of him, and looking slightly sideways saw his foster-son slacken Brego's reins to let the horse rest after the climb

"_Mâr_"

The whisper was quiet but to him it meant so much. It meant that Aragorn still considered himself a northerner, despite the home he had made himself in Gondor, with all the rank and privilege it afforded. He was still a ranger, Chieftain, and more keenly still, still a child of Imladris, Still Estel. As all that went through his head he replied with a small smile and a nod.

Then he turned his head, ears picking up the rusting of undergrowth. As his eyes rested on the trees he saw a brief flash of white. He waited. Slowly, with a high stepping tread, a white horse appeared out of the trees. His rider was tall, Elrond knew that if they both were on foot their heights would be equal, and his hair was golden, streaming loose down his back. Elrond smiled and nodded as the other elf placed a hand on his heart in greeting

"_Mae l'ovannen_"Then the elf looked beyond him and bowed again "_G__ewilcumian_, Éomer Éomund's son and Éowyn Théodwyn**'**s daughter."

* * *

"How do you know who we are?" Éowyn acted instinctively, settling her hand on her sword hilt. She couldn't control her tongue though, and it reacted to hearing her birth language by using the same in reply. She was scared, very scared. This stranger knew both sides of her bloodline, had named her and her brother in the correct way for their country, son to father and daughter to mother. But that wasn't the crux of it, no, when he had spoken, he hadn't spoke in the over gramatically-correct way that Gondorian's did, nor with the slight accents of either Aragorn or Arwen, betraying their Elven teachings. He spoke it like a native of Edoras, with stress and inflection perfect. Yet he was an elf, not one of her countrymen...

"I knew your mother when she was a girl, and played with your father on occasion"

That didn't ease any worry "How do you speak our language?"

"I learnt it to survive, and to live"

The distinction he placed between the two confused her and she frowned, also realising he hadn't actually answered what she'd asked. Her next question checked by a raised hand from the Elf and a brief order in Sindarin. She caught one word, Thorongil. That she knew meant Aragorn, had been his name when he served under her grandfather. Then the elf nodded to her and she guessed it was safe to speak again, asking the question she probably should have asked at the very beginning.

"Who are you?"

The elf tilted his head from side to side as if considering, then, after a long moment, or what seemed like one, he answered "While I was in Rohan, I was known as Sigeberht."

She nodded once, sharply. It conveyed he wasn't off the hook yet, but that she was satisfied for the moment.

* * *

Elrond waited until he saw Éowyn had finished before silently gesturing that the other elf should lead them on. he followed, glancing back to see the others automatically falling into the single file they had used down the previous track. But this one, once they had cleared the ridge drop, widened out so that, at a press, three could ride side by side. He nudged Suldal, sending her up next to the grey. It's rider turned and nodded to him again.

"Lord Elrond"

He returned the gesture, wondering at the formality "Tuilindo"

"Father will be glad that you are back..." The use of Quenya brought to the fore a light but noticeable accent in the golden-haired elf's speech. Then a slightly impish, childish smile appeared and the elf flicked his head in the direction of the Rohirrim "I surprised them, didn't I?"

"You surprised us all..." He caught a look of disbelief and nodded "Even me, I was expecting it to be Elladan or Elrohir."

The elf pointed across the valley "Elrohir is down by the Brunien. Watching for you there. Elladan would have been up here, save that Erestor bullied him into staying down in the House, something about being Lord of the Valley." Tuilindo shrugged "I took off up here before anyone else was chosen for the duty."

Elrond studied the elf, watching his eyes and face "Why are you so careful of the borders, the orcs have gone?"

"Normally we are not so, there is a loose patrol out and about but not like during the ring war. But, with all of you traveling, it was decided that the passes would be watched until you arrived."

He nodded slowly, seeing Glorfindel's warrior-sense in that plan, and no evasion in the speaker "Thank you."

* * *

As Suldal carried him down the path Elrond found himself thinking over what Tuilindo had said. He felt himself relax as he realised they had been being watched out for through the journey, that being a worry he hadn;t dared to mention to any of the others. Nobody had really known when they would arrive, therefore no one would notice if they were late. He shivered, remembering that it was lack of punctuality which sent the search party to Caradhras Pass. As he thought, stubbornly avoiding what his mind had just lighted on, he felt a weight settle onto his shoulders, as if he had just slung a carry-pack over them. His eyes drifted onto Imladris itself and he realised what it was he felt. He was lord here, given the land and post by Ereinion as a reward, and he thought, a growing up present. He was responsible, not only for the small party that followed him as their nominal leader, but for all the people who called this their home, be it for most of their lives, or just en-route to another destination. He had obligations to fulfill here, far more than in Gondor. Slowly, slowly, he lifted his head, jaw slightly set to hide a trembling. Then, realising that at least two of the group would know his evasion for what it was, he relaxed and turned in the saddle, addressing them in the Common Tongue.

"What are you looking forward to?"

There was a pause, as each member seemed to asses his question. Boromir was quickest to answer "A good bed".

There were some chuckles and he saw Éomer lean over to shove the other man, clearly remarking on his laziness.

"Full meals"

"Rest"

"Books"

He laughed, not needing to even see who was answering with that "There will be books aplenty Faramir, that I promise." Then, with a smile still on his face, he felt the shadow of the archway on his shoulders and turned to face the front just before they entered the courtyard.

* * *

Eyes watched them as they rode in. Up on the arched bridge stood a loose group of elves, who each bowed as his eyes fell on them. More stood in the shelter of the roofed Haven close to the gate, they stepped backward as Windfola danced sideways and threatened a kick. He looked to the steps last of all. Four elves stood there, one at the top, in the door arch of the building. Of the other three, all black haired, two stood on one step, the other two steps above.

After checking that everyone else had entered the courtyard he dismounted. As if it had been a signal, the two closer elves bounded down the remaining steps. He embraced his sons tightly, suddenly feeling a loss vanish which he hadn't even known existed. Then he released them, saw one run to Arwen, the other to Aragorn.

"Elrond"

He grasped the offered forearm, a warrior's greeting, meeting Glorfindel's eyes silently.

The elf from Gondolin smiled "It is good to see you once more _Eärendilion_."

He nodded, unable to answer such an open declaration of friendship and loyalty. He let Glorfindel lead him up the steps, past Erestor, who fell into step, and into the railed corridor. Then he glanced back, saw Tuilindo, and the Rohirrim taking the horses to the stables. He caught Glorfindel's eye and flicked them in the direction of the rest of the group, speaking Quenya "See the others settled would you?"

There was a tug on his arm and he followed it obediently, calling one last instruction over his shoulder to the golden haired elf "And take Faramir to the library, if you would."

* * *

"13 years you've been gone, 13 years, and what news have we had? Second hand reports from the twins and Airehíthon, short notes of emergencies or diplomacy and one." Erestor held up a finger for emphasis as he walked along "ONE, brief visit here when you'd tried to sort out Thranduil."

Distantly he heard his sons' berating Erestor in return. He held himself stiff as he strode ahead down the corridor, his face the image of control and authority. But it was an image only, a veneer born of training in Lindon, a mask to hide behind.

Erestor was right, he had neglected Imladris left it to cope without making the clean break of sailing West. Thus people expected things of him, loyalty he had not delivered. Numb, he opened his study door and walked across the room, coming to a stop with his hands flat on the top of his desk, feeling the grain unconsciously with his fingertips.

"How many are left?" His voice grated, hoarse and unused as all his fortitude seemed to drain into the wood beneath his palms.

"Sixty of the household, around 50 staff." The number was less exact than he'd expected, and it made him feel even more shattered. He'd left them so much work, work he'd relied on various people to get done.

Slowly he breathed out, trying to disguise the fact that he felt like a cart horse had kicked him in the chest. 110 out of the thousand odd that used to call the valley their home.

"Oh how are the mighty fallen" It came out bitter, harsh. "Galadriel knew this would happen, Círdan, Celeborn, they all knew... I knew... Why did I stay?"

He didn't realise he'd spoke aloud until the silence settled around the room.

"Because you're Half-Elven..."

Slowly he turned to look over his shoulder. Tuilindo stood in the doorway, watching him calmly, respectfully. He sensed the elf wanted to say more and nodded, inviting him to go on

"...Because you're Eärendil's son"

* * *

Glorfindel led his charges down corridors and up several flights of stairs, slowing occasionally to let the children catch up. Eventually he stopped and opened a door, revealing a corridor beyond.

"You will all sleep here. Eldarion, you will sleep in the room that was once your father's. Arwen, you and Aragorn have your old room."

Everyone saw the completely blank look that Aragorn threw his wife

Boromir raised an eyebrow "Do you not know where it is?"

_"____Nan aear ar in elin!_ If Elrond had found me anywhere near Arwen's room I would have been thrown out the window by my ear."

They all chuckled at that, even Glorfindel, who well knew the seriousness of the threat "You're safe now Estel." But then he stepped closer to the Dúnadan and switched to Sindarin "But remind me how many times I kept the two of you out of trouble when you slipped into the corridor to talk to her?"

Aragorn glared at him.

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Mâr _= Home_  
_**

**___Mae l'ovannen=_ Well met_  
_**

**___Nan aear ar in elin! =_ By the sea and the stars!**

**Rohirric (Old English)**

**_G__ewilcumian_ = Welcome**

**Reviews please  
**


	47. Settling In

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf_, _Blade Draco_, _Pazithia Gallifreya_, _Glory Bee,_ and _Greenscarfgirl_ for reviewing.**

**This is, I think, the penultimate chapter... Enjoy it.**

* * *

It was the sun that woke Eldarion the next morning. It shone through the unshielded window, bathing his face in golden warmth. He blinked, almost bad-temperedly, wondering why no-one had drawn the shutters and rolled over away from the light, pressing his eyes shut and burying his face in the pillow. The pillow smelt slightly odd, herby, but in a nice way. Behind him there was a gentle rustling and he felt the brush of a breeze on his back. Slowly he rolled over and opened his eyes. The ceiling wasn't the one in his room, curved silver stone, this was creamy wood carved to look like tree branches. One even broke away from the solid ceiling and had a painted wooden bird carved on it.

Then, with a light whir of wings, the 'carved' bird took flight, flying across the ceiling to perch on a branch of the tree outside his window. Eldarion laughed in delight and rolled onto one elbow to watch it as it sang. It hopped from branch to branch, going further away then skipping back closer. An idea began to take shape in his mind and instead of watching the bird he studied the branches, using the wood-lore that Legolas had taught him. The bird, apparently annoyed at being ignored, hopped back onto the windowsill and began to trill imperiously.

Eldarion swung his feet down to the floor, kicking the errant blanket that tried to entangle him and trotted across to the window. The sill was about shoulder height, but it didn't take much to pull himself up. He sat there for a moment, judging the distance and tentatively reaching out to pat the strong tree limb that was there, so inviting. The breeze rose up again, pushing his hair away from his face. He smiled, emboldened, then leapt easily out onto the branch.

* * *

"Come down...come down"

Aragorn listened to Erestor's shouting outside and laughed.

Next to him Arwen sat up frowning "What's the alarm?"

He had to stop laughing to speak "I imagine Dari has found that there is a tree right next to his window"

She smiled then, not needing to be told the rest, and lent against him. One armed he returned the embrace and pulled here back down. Almost distractedly his eyes roamed over the room they were in. Like all of imladris it seemed ti be carved to fit nature, work around the top wall edges reminding him of a weave of willow branches. He looked across at Arwen "For all Glorfindel's teasing, we both know I have never seen your room, and it is beautiful beloved, just as you are."

She swatted him "There's no reason to turn courtier now just because you've escaped."

"No, I'm a ranger again" Smiling he raised an eyebrow "But I don't remember you being against flattery when we met."

Then, for no reason, they were both laughing at once, a laugh of released tension and relief at finding safety.

* * *

Faramir wandered down the corridor. He had a loose idea of trying to find the library, but had no real idea of the direction in which it lay. So he just ambled, guessing his turnings as he explored.

"A true ranger I see."

He spun around, setting his weight on the balls of his feet and reaching down to his belt on reaction.

"Easy,... Easy."

The elf in front of him held up his hands in a placating gesture and Faramir relaxed somewhat, coming instead to a rough sort of attention "Sir?" Even as he put up a front of ease he was looking over the elf, judging his movements, seeking a weakness...

"Do I meet your approval?"

He blinked, realising belatedly that the elf had spoken and he hadn't heard a word "I'm sorry?"

The elf's eyes smiled "You were sizing me up as if I was an enemy, Captain Faramir. So, do I pass?"

He paused. There had been amusement, but no mockery, in the tone so he decided to treat it as an honest question. "I've no doubt you could fight, in a pinch. But" he stopped briefly, trying to figure out the phrasings to used. All the time the elf watched him, eyes gentle. He gave up and "I wouldn't pick you as one of my first line of defence.. You're not a warrior."

The elf smiled properly then, and held out a hand "Erestor; Elrond, and the Twins' Chief Counsellor"

Farmir shook it, and following a gesture, fell into step with the elf down the corridor. There was silence for quite a while, all along that corridor, down a flight of stairs and into the next corridor until Faramir caught a sideways glance and realised that the elf was waiting for him to speak. Frantic, he cast along the corridor for a topic of conversation. But there was nothing, and he sensed an air of disapproval coming from the stately elf beside him

"Why did you call me a 'true ranger'?"

"You were up with the sun, alert and wasting no time. You place your feet so they make no sound, I watched you judging the flight of creaky stairs a while ago. And you react quickly."

Faramir smiled wryly, remembering a much taller and lighter haired elf who had mentioned similar things about him years before. For some reason he didn't seem compelled to reveal to Erestor, as he probably would if it had been one of the twins, or Glorfndel had found him, that he could have quite happily slept until mid-morning, except for Erestor's shouts to Eldarion waking him up.

He stopped and blinked. The doors they had gradually been approaching swung open at Erestor's touch. Beyond lay a huge hall, though he noted that it was wider than it was long. Within were various long tables, all radiating off a dais, which held another table. Frowning he looked to Erestor for guidance. The elf almost ignored his glance

"Sit where you will" The tone was blunt, almost sharp and Faramir was left standing in the doorway as his former companion moved towards the dais.

* * *

The seconds slipped by as he remained there, feeling sillier and siller. As he turned his head from one way to the other he knew his eyes would be darting in much the same manner, though more desperately. A low whistle reached his ears and as he looked towards it he saw the others at one of the tables. Grateful for the rescue he wove through the tables separating them and sat down with a sigh.

Boromir didn't seem to acknowledge him, instead staring contemplatively back at the door "That was rather unfair."

Safe now Faramir answered with a shrug "I think he was distracted by something, but he was decent until then, leading me here."

Without speaking Éomer propelled a basket of bread up the table in his direction. Faramir caught it, picking out one of the small loaves to eat, only to nearly drop it a second later.

"It's hot"

A soft laugh came from behind him and he turned to see the elf who had guided them down to the valley "You're lucky, you arrived the day of a baking. May I?" The elf neatly sat down on the chair at Faramir's left "Therefore, there's fresh bread for breakfast."

Even as the elf spoke Faramir was breaking his piece and buttering it, as did the others. For a while there was nothing but contented chewing, backed by the occasional chatter from one of the other tables.

"Did you find anything on your wanderings, Faramir"

Mouth full, he shook his head, then swallowed and returned the question "You?"

Boromir nodded, "I found the training square."

At the other end of the table Éomer rolled his eyes and sighed. Faramir shot him a look and hid his smile before looking over at his brother "I presume, with your usual directness, that you are suggesting a bout of sword practise"

"Careful." The elf's warning was soft but they both fell silent as one of the female elves walked close by. When she was gone he explained "I presume you do not want an audience for this, some would mock you for your slowness."

Faramir smiled sightly "We'll see."

* * *

Wooden cracks rang out, echoing off nearby trees

"You're going easy, come on!" The tone was outraged and the words were followed by the sounds of another flurry of blows, then a solid thump and air that had clearly been knocked out of someone's lungs.

The three elves crept closer, listening as the first speaker ordered his opponent back onto his feet. The answer was obviously negative, as something else hit the sand with the unmistakable sound made by a wooden training sword.

Tuilindo hopped down off the fence onto the sandy floor "I'll take Boromir's place if you want."

Faramir paused and, from the fence Éowyn started to protest "You're fresh...". But Faramir had nodded and retrieved his wooden sword from the floor, settling back into a fighting stance. Tuilindo walked over to the rack in the corner and picked his own sword, choosing one carved to mortal design but several weights heavier than Faramir's. That should offset the balance in their speed neatly. Then he returned to his spot and faced Faramir, waiting.

* * *

Caenir peered out of the trees to see Glorfindel's son and one of the newly arrived mortals standing opposite each other, both armed. Neither moved, not even their eyes and he guessed, with his decent amount of warrior knowledge, that they where sizing each other up, testing for weakness, seeing who would make the first move. Smiling, he looked back at his two companions "Who do you think will win? I say it's Tuilindo"

All three looked at each other for a moment. Then Lhainor nodded "I agree" His Silvan accent marked him from most of the others in the valley. Then the pair looked to their companion "Baingoldir?"

But the final elf shook his head "I think the man will win."

They rolled their eyes.

* * *

The flicker of movement caught Tuilindo's vision and he half-glanced in the direction of the trees, spotting Caenir and two other elves in the shadows. Then, quite deliberately, he stepped forward and brought his 'blade' down to strike. Faramir parried easily, as he'd expected, and they stepped apart. He tried a different blow, or seemed to, and catching Faramir's eye as he pulled out at the last second, jerked his head in the direction of the trees. He saw the Gondorian's eyes flick once, then the tiniest of nods and a smile. There was another pause, then quite suddenly, Tuilindo found himself defending against the full flurry of a bout.

He was skilled, yes, and by nature of being an elf, fast on his feet. Yet somehow that didn't seem to be enough. Faramir had caught him off guard for one moment, now he had trouble stepping free enough to start an attack of his own. It wasn't that the man was as fast as an elf, or as quick with his senses, but whichever way Tuilindo turned he found himself defending from a swipe, or unable to move as a foot pushed his instep. He'd always found cloaks a nuisance in battle, but Faramir seemed to be the complete opposite, the green cloth was always in his way, swirling left and right, apparently subject to the merest thought of its wearer.

He turned, seeing a gap and sprang for it, using a deer-like stride to get free. But, inevitably (as some part of his mind noted) his rising back foot connected with something and he tipped forward off balance. It wasn't a bad landing, he'd been trained to well for that, but despite how easy it would have been for him to spring to his feet and carry on he stayed laying on his back on the sand.

* * *

Caenir watched the fight nervously and heard one of his friends stifle a gasp as Tuilindo tumbled through the air. All their breaths were held as the golden haired elf lay still on the sand. They watched as the red-headed man strode forward,

"Are you alright?"

Tuilindo nodded and accepted a hand to be pulled up. As he stood steady the watchers released their breath. Then he heard Baingoldir start to clap, apparently buoyed by the applause from the other mortals. Sighing, bowing his head in answer to his friend's triumphant look, he joined in.

Faramir turned as he heard strange applause, only then remembering the elves by the trees. Gradually it grew louder, as more and more apparently joined the group, or certainly the ovation. He stood awkwardly, smiling, until a poke in the ribs from Tuilindo and a sharp cough from Boromir recalled him. Then, sweeping his cloak out like a musician or dancer, he bowed.

* * *

Elrond smiled as he listened to Glorfindel's account of the afternoon. Trust Tuilindo to put Faramir in a good light, and make quite a few elves think hard, apparently. Then, just to check, he asked the question outright

"Did he go easy with him"

Glorfindel smiled and hook his head slightly "Nay, only enough to make a fair fight. The victory was Faramir's skill, fair and square."

He stood up and turned away to look out over in the direction of the training area "This a lesson I learned long ago. Never underestimate a mortal who thinks they have something to prove, especially if they are ranger trained.

* * *

**Reviews anyone?**


	48. Arts of Elves

**Thank you to _Kaisaan Greenleaf, Glory Bee, Pazithia Gallifreya, Blade Draco_ and _Greenscarfgirl_** **for reviewing.**

**Well, here it is, the last chapter of "There's still a life in Arda"... Enjoy.**

* * *

"Everyone's talking about it, you realise?"

Faramir neatly sidestepped one of the flower bushes in the garden beds and gave his wife an amused look "You learnt Sindarin when?"

Éowyn tossed her head in annoyance "Faramir, this is serious, either they're pleased with how you did or they feel you are a threat."

She has a point Faramir" Boromir had appeared on his other side. "To all those watchers it looks like you're dangerously good with a sword"

Éowyn watched as her husband sank down to the ground, mumbling something and pressing his forehead to his knees as if he was going to faint. Slowly, mindful of the dew-damp grass, she dropped next to him "Faramir"

"Why did I agree to fight him?" He raised his head and she saw despair in his eyes "I'm not a warrior by trade, it was fluke and sham. Tuilindo left his feet deliberately where I could block them. Even if he didn't realise he was doing it, he threw the fight in my favor and I stupidly took advantage of it, the way I would if I fought orcs or Haradrim."

"_Adar_ doesn't think you stupid, nor Glorfindel, nor Roh, nor I"

Éowyn turned, one hand on her belt knife, to see one of Elrond's sons standing watching them. Even after five days she was still wary, but took a crouched step back as a signal he could come closer

"Faramir, just because you have acted one way, it doesn't meant you are bound to that path"

"And that from the people who believe in fates more than any other" Éowyn heard her husband's forced attempt at flippancy and winced slightly, it sounded more like an insult than a jest.

But Elladan didn't take offense "That is one tale that spreads, yes. And in part it is true... But we will not consider that for now. You wanted to see the library, I believe"

Faramir lifted his head and Éowyn, to her great releif, saw a glint of interest in his eyes.

* * *

Faramir nearly fell over the rail as Elladan pointed downward

"That's the library"

He couldn't even muster words to answer, eyes fixed on the shelves. There were so many of them, a hundred... more? Slowly, barely knowing how his feet moved, he walked down the stairs and in amongst the maze of shelves. Books, books all around. He walked along the aisles, eyes moving from side to side and drinking in the sight. And what beautiful books, all bound in leather or cloth and with Tengwa tooled on the spines.

"They are for reading, you know"

He turned his head away from the rainbow of books he'd been studying and directed his gaze to the elf who had come up next to him "I know, but they're beautiful as they are."

The elf nodded "Yes"

Faramir watched as he stepped forward and selected a volume. Curious he looked at the tooling on the cover "What's that?"

The elf glanced at the cover, "It's a book of old lays, bardic songs that used to be told."He knew his eyes must have lit up at the sound of that, for the elf chuckled "Do you know something of music?"

He managed a small shrug "A little, I like the old tales." Then, unbidden, his eyes strayed back to the stranger letters "There must be wonderful stories in these books"

His companion nodded "Oh there are, some are the original notes of those who were there."

'Adûnathôr would give his harp case to see this, to read them'

"Who's Adûnathôr?"

He jumped, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten he had a companion, or that he might have spoken out loud what he meant only to think. Skittish, he answered as best he could, realising belatedly that it would sound like hedging around a subject he didn't wish to speak about "He was just a minstrel, a bard... He came to our home a few times" he felt the elf's eyes rest on him for a few more seconds then move abruptly away.

"If you know a little of music, you could sit with me while I go through this."

He blinked in surprise but followed as the elf wove through the shelves. Then his guide disappeared and, following instincts older than his ranger training, he stayed still listening for a clue as to where to go. It didn't take long for him to realise the futility of what he was trying to do. If it was one of his rangers , but an elf, on flat smooth terrain he knew. Less hope than an orc being nice. He sighed, an an elven head popped back around the bookshelf, a rueful smile on its face

"_Tolo hí, aphado ni__n_"

Uncomprehending he guessed at the meaning of the words and closed the distance between the two of them, turning past the shelf that the elf had appeared by. He found himself in a hollow, for want of a better word, containing three chairs, a desk, and half full shelves. With a gesture his guide indicated he should be seated, an injunction which he obeyed quite happily, pulling his chair closer to the desk on which the book now sat. That brought him close to the elf, so their shoulders nearly touched. Remembered politeness made him twitch away, but also brought him a quizzical look from his companion. Trembling for some reason he tried to make an apology, only for it to come out in Adûnaic. He clenched his hands, forcing his old fear back as if it was a marauding orc. Simplicity, his mind whispered, simplicity

"_Mani enethlîn_?" His attempt was poor, and he knew it as he heard the words tumble from his mouth with no respect for stress placings or gaps. But the elf didn't seem to mind.

"Baingoldir"

He nodded silently and replied to an unspoken question "Faramir"

Baingoldir's eyes shone briefly and he spoke to himself. Faramir caught several words he'd picked up on the ride north, but one word made his head ring like a struck bell; 'Osgiliath'.

"Yes" He muttered it "Yes, mock me for my failures."

Baingoldir looked at him for a long moment, then tapped the page the book was open on in a meaningful manner.

* * *

Éomer didn't move from his perch on the bale of straw as someone sat down next to him. He didn't turn his head or acknowledge his companion in any way, but spoke in his native tongue, facing the wooden barrier on the other side of the loose-box "Faramir." He heard his unwanted companion draw a breath slightly, and guessed at a reluctant nod before carrying on "You realise he's in pieces, don't you. He's frightened of what the others think of him."

"I thought it would help."

Finally he turned his head, glaring at the blond elf "So you admit you threw the fight?"

"I wanted him to have confidence, believe in himself."

Éomer hissed "You _Child_... He's too busy being nervous now to use any positivity."

There was a dry chuckle from Tuilindo, which came close to breaking into a laughing fit "Aye, Éomundson, that was my name at first in your country."

He grunted "I noticed you fought like one of our own." And that sparked curiosity, which for once he wasn't going to deny "Even weighted by that sword, how did you manage to look so out of control."

Tuilindo smiled "As an horse coper alters a horse to look briefly presentable, or otherwise, I made sure I failed to correctly execute moves, and have my feet in the wrong places, while giving the appearance of still attempting to fight well."

Éomer gave a low breath in appreciation of that feat, knowing just how hard it was to forget his years of training. And this Eorlinga had had ten-times the training and practice he would ever manage. "You have the wits of a Meara"

Tuilindo ducked his head to the praise, but not before Éomer heard a retort "And you hide in this stable like a foal"

The elf stood up and offered his hand. With set teeth, and wondering why _Béma_ had made him come here, Éomer rose and followed.

* * *

Faramir shut his eyes as Baingoldir sang softly. He couldn't understand the words, but their sentiment was all to clear, though it varied from joy to sadness, loyalty to disavowal. Slowly though, as a chorus began to appear out of the music, he frowned. The tune... He found his fingers tapping it unbidden, somehow knowing the stresses almost before they came. Following along he opened his eyes, still relishing in the music that carried around his ears.

But Baingoldir wasn't singing any more, instead he was staring at him with widening eyes.

Startled Faramir drew breath to ask what was the matter, only to have the now wordless tune break off raggedly. He checked sharply before speaking, aware of the silence in his ears, and vaguely what it entailed. Baingoldir said something in Sindarin and he stared in incomprehension until it was repeated.

"You know that song?"

This time the words came in common, and he understood, able to answer "The tune only, we knew different words."

The elf seemed stunned "It is old, very old..." He lowered his voice to a whisper "Some say it was written by _Melehtanyel _himself"

Faramir listened, knowing who the Quenya name referred to and simply waiting, with a rangers patience, to see where this was going.

"If your Adûnathôr knew it then he was taught either by Maglor or one of his students"

In skepticism of that he gave the book they had been studying a pointed look "Or he's read that"

"Which would amount to the same thing, as this song was noted down by Lord Elrond"

Now that did make sense, for as illiterate of elven writing as he was, he had recognised the hand inscribing the pages, without being definite as to why he did, or indeed whose it was. Baingoldir touched his shoulder, drawing his eyes away from the book and he distantly heard the elf take up the song again, throwing him a wink as he did so.

* * *

He shook his head "_Ni bâ_, no no no and no again Baingoldir..." Desperately he tried to appeal to the elf's sense of race difference "It wouldn't be right"

"Why not? I heard your singing, ."

They were sitting in the same hollow as just over a fortnight before, but no book was open on the desk, nor were the chairs tucked side by side. Instead they were twisted to face each other emphasising the split in the argument. It was uncomfortable for both**, **but frankly the ranger deemed it necessary. Using the distance to his advantage in hiding emotions, Faramir locked the elf in a gaze he only ever used for the most troublesome young ranger recruits "It is an elf's song, it should be sung by elves"

"It is a two part song, and I cannot sing two tunes at once"

He sighed as Baingoldir dropped his head, clearly meant as apology and plea, then rose to his feet "I'm sorry, but I cannot. It would be impolite" Stepping around the other elf's chair he gave a formal bow, quite deliberately placing his fingers to his forehead, and thereby defining the difference in their status'. Then, silently, he turned and left

* * *

Tuilindo led them into the Hall of Fire quite unobtrusively, edging them into a neat corner. However, such was the height disparity between the two peoples that gradually they found themselves edged to the front of the group. Unlike most Gondorian music, there was no really noticeable split in the room between the musicians and the listeners, the elves joined in with the songs as they wished. About halfway through Boromir nudged his brother, who had been sitting cross-legged watching one of the elves with a regretful look on his face.

"If I promise to dance the Scurry with Thiri, will you please sing with that poor lad?"

He expected a harsh reaction, having spotted that something was amiss with his brother. Faramir turned to look at him, rolling his eyes but keeping his voice low and using Adûnaic "If I sing and you don't dance, there will be trouble."

He held up his hands, palms outwards, before placing one on his heart "I promise, on my honour"

His brother watched him for a long moment before looking back towards the singers.

In the lull Boromir crept over to Elrond, who sat with the musicians, his harp ready to be played, and explained. The elf gave a tiny nod, only to immediately direct his attention to the leader of the musicians, who shifted on his stool in impatience.

* * *

Lindir stood up, forcing himself to speak common "Baingoldir, I believe this is when you chose to sing" Then he dropped into hissed Sindarin "If you found anyone willing to sing second for the nonsense of a Flame-eyed"

The younger elf nodded "One of the men will sing with me." Then he stood up, and with a poise that made Lindir set his teeth, walked over to Faramir, introducing the song as he did so.

* * *

Elrond forced a mask over his face as he heard Lindir's disparaging, and hypocritical, comment. Initially it was just to stop his anger exploding out in front of guests and residents alike, but when the singing started it disguised all the turmoil of emotions. Faramir's singing, as remarkable as it was, played a small part in his disintegration. Some chords, stanza's of this work were ones he knew, had heard practised in long summer nights when the two of them, were supposed to be asleep, and he disobeying to hear the music. He remembered whispered discussions, comments from the listener and avid testing from the player. By the end he was fighting not to close his eyes, for the finale notes and words where those he had once either dreamt or half heard on the sea breeze one time when he stayed with Círdan in Mithlond.

When the singing stopped the applause seemed somewhat detached, those who had traveled with him clapping as heard as they could, along with a number of the elves. But some, either stayed their hand or clapped half-heartedly, more from duty than enjoyment. After a jarring moment, he pointedly met Boromir's eyes and ran his fingers up the harp strings, a noise which not only acted as a cue for the dancers, but stilled all chatter.

* * *

Boromir and Lothíriel rose to their feet, the others edging backwards to clear a larger space for dancing. He shifted on the spot, met her eyes, which gleamed with her smile. He had promised, and, at last, he was going to fulfill that vow. Elrond needed no signal, the music came...

And they danced.

* * *

**Translations**

**Sindarin**

**_Tolo hí, aphado ni__n_ = Come here, follow me**

**_Mani enethlîn_ (Man i eneth lîn?)= What is your name?**

**Quenya**

**Adûnaic**

**_Ni bâ_ =I won't.**

* * *

**It's rather weird to realise that this story has come to an end. When I started it, over two years ago, I had no real idea where I would be going, what ideas would pop into my head. Some were good, some not so (a couple of especially creaky/ no-longer fitting moments will be edited when I get around to it). Thanks to _dreamingfifi_ and the other translators on _Merin Essi ar Quenteli_ for providing me with translations, however bizarre some of my requests might have looked, and keeping my geography accurate. **

**Last but by no means least;**

**A heartfelt THANK YOU to all my reviewers throughout, but especially Kaisaan Greenleaf, who reads in such detail that she weaves extra nuance out of my story, and that has got me out of a rut many times. Kaisaan, _hantanyel órenyallo_.**

**However, when one story comes to an end, another begins. The first chapter of the sequel _Seeking, _is posted.  
**


End file.
